The Opposite of Gravity
by daiyaonna
Summary: With Eiri's return from New York, everything seems to be falling back into place, but when the unexpected reappearance of Aizawa threatens Shuichi's safety, it take one singer's secret to save them all, but the questions is, what has Ryuichi been hiding?
1. Homecoming

  
Author's Note: Hmmm…where to begin? Oh...this story has been sitting in the back of my computer and my mind, collecting "dust," and I thought it was time to actually start finishing it. *sigh* This actually began as a sequel to the anime, but it's grown so many twists and turns that I doubt it could be considered that anymore. However, it does take place after the end of the series. Well, I won't babble anymore. Read and enjoy!  
  
Warnings: shounen-ai (come on…it's Gravitation), fluffiness (at times), somewhat bad use of the Japanese language, "weird" pairings, etc.  
  


  
Track One: Homecoming  
  


It was dark when the solitary figure finally made it home to the aerial building in downtown Tokyo, although the vague furnishings of his non-claustrophobic apartment rarely seemed that to him anymore, and despite being gone so long, he truly dreaded entering the door. Yuki Eiri had never been one for commitment nor was he one to waste flattering words on a foolish girl -or boy in this case- but he felt far beyond unprepared for what lay on the other side of the uncongenial world portal that somehow transported him to a realm that became something other than what he had been used to several months back. It was too easy to admit defeat and say he was scared, Eiri wasn't afraid of anything dead or alive, but the prospect of how much everything would actually mean to him when he turned the handle flooded his mind like a bad memory.  
  
He'd had too many of those since his "relationship" with the kawaii and also extremely genki vocalist of the ever-popular band Bad Luck had fallen into play that haphazardly awkward day when he had found his unfinished lyrics blowing away in the wind, and that had been the reason for his entire disappearance from Japan. It had been easy to slip away from his normal everyday routine -drinking, whether it be too much coffee or not enough beer, smoking, always typing away at his laptop in hopes to procure a better novel than before- but there had been that one thing which constantly gave him precedence over his past and the tragic outcome of coming too close to someone he thought he could trust with his life. Obviously, he had been wrong, and he had never wanted to confront that hidden fear again -too ashamed to admit he had been driven into himself from such a malevolent betrayal- but when the clumsily lithe singer had inadvertently jumped in front of his car that rainy day he had tried to convince himself he would have been better off ending his uneventful and rather pointless life, things had started to change.  
  
_ "If you're trying to commit suicide…find another car-"_  
  
The thought unintentionally made Eiri smile, his brain drowning in the facade of hot pink hair and liquid indigo eyes that only began to describe the group soloist, and he had to catch himself before the lust driven deep within his heart caused him to rip the door off its hinges in his haste to have that warm body pressed against his and that sweet smell encircling him; it was a likely possibility seeing as how the perky youth tended to fracture walls rather than use the entrance like a normal person. He had missed the familiarity of everything while he had been in New York, confronting his buried problems, but above all else, although he probably would never be able to admit it aloud, no matter how hard he tried, he had missed his undeniably adorable yet sometimes annoying lover.  
  
Sighing with a low breath as he tried to gather his failing courage, Eiri once again reached forward to quietly push the already opened door aside, toeing his shoes off before entering -as was the custom- and sliding his portable suitcase against the wall while he slipped inside. He braced himself instantly, unconsciously expecting to be pelted by a thin form sporting a light strawberry scent and repeatedly loud screams of 'Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!!' that usually damaged his eardrums, but not one sound ensued. Glancing at the clock ticking meticulously on the wall answered as to why.  
  


It was early morning, almost three.  
  


Habitually, he inspected the apartment for any signs of damage but found none, and when his vision fell upon the couch, he, too, found that to be empty. Eiri really hadn't been expecting much of a welcome, not since he had informed Bad Luck's manager of the situation concerning their star attraction for a specific concert that had been scheduled only a few days back -he had promptly been rushed from America to Japan K-style- and it wasn't surprising to find no one waiting at home for him. Somewhere in his cluttered and fatigued mind, Eiri suspected the hyperactive nineteen-year- old was staying with his best friend, silent but strong-willed and resilient Nakano Hiroshi, serious guitarist of their pop band, but somehow he was hurt. He never thought ahead, it seemed, and all he had wanted to do was return as fast as he could to be with the lover he had left all alone. It wasn't fair to anyone, especially to the singer, that a dead sensei who had "sold" him for ten dollars to a bunch of punks and a certain blonde haired N-G Records owner had held his attention for the better part of the past week and a half. Still fresh in his mind, the conversation eluded him.  
  
_ "Where are you going, Eiri-san?" There was a pause and the novelist found himself stopping, a strange smile of sarcastic enmity falling onto his face as a soft breeze blew against his skin.  
  
"I'm going home." It had been a simple answer and the truth; he'd missed it too much for all the wrong reasons.  
  
"Home? To...to him...to Shindou-san?" A tone of sadness filled his older brother-in-law's voice, and Eiri turned to stare at him, all emotion disappearing from his somber visage, including from his normally cold lemon- lime eyes.  
  
"Hai...to Shuichi-"  
_  
Shuichi…  
  
Shuichi wasn't here, and he had been the only thing on his mind the entire flight home from the New York City air terminal. Eiri wanted to beg forgiveness, though he knew the words would never come; Eiri wanted to make love, though his lover might decline; Eiri wanted Shuichi all for himself, though he had to share him with the entire world.  
  
The writer felt a snicker of amusement catching in his throat as he quietly padded towards his bedroom, his coat finding its way off of his slim body and onto the floor, and he shook his head. He sounded like a fool, thinking nonsense about things that only deserved an unmemorable place in the books he detested to write but enjoyed to criticize. Completely forgetting to undress and change into something more comfortable, Eiri folded himself onto the welcoming mattress, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips -he had not realized he had been that tired- and concealed entirely in the dark, he began wandering off into a somewhat pleasant light sleep until something beside him shifted, sniffled, and snuggled closer to him, a nose digging into the slope of his neck. Slender hands moved up to wrap around his waist and a thin leg slid between his thighs, pressing Eiri tighter against the warm body rhythmically breathing beside him.  
  
"Yuki..." A muffled tenor sobbed softly a moment later, nearly tearing the remainder of Eiri's heart from his chest. Shuichi was home, he had been sleeping in his bed -their bed in all actuality- and from the subdued noises now emitting from his throat, he still was, dreams making the thin limbs around him tense, but despite the darkness and the obviously unwanted tautness of the genki vocalist in his arms, Eiri saw his petite lover perfectly -the mass of pink fluff considered hair, bottomless cerulean eyes beneath closed smoothed lids, flawlessly tanned skin. Eiri saw perfection and loved it.  
  
"Shuichi," he whispered, his breath fanning across the curved cheek exposed to him, and he felt the youth stir but not awaken; he was still dreaming.  
  
"Yuki-" There was another sniffle and it was followed by a gasp of air. "I love you…don't leave me." Sighing, Eiri pressed himself closer, fingers deftly trailing up Shuichi's clothed stomach before he leaned in, capturing the mumbling lips with his own, sending a shiver down his spine. He hadn't intentionally meant to hurt him with the pretenses of cold affection and unanswerable questions about his past that even Eiri was afraid to figure out, but he had and now that everything was finally taken care of, he wanted to make it up to the innocent although hentai-minded boy.  
  
Eiri nibbled gently against the plush mouth he was currently sampling and murmured a silent approval against them, the hinted taste of strawberry lip-gloss and minty toothpaste flowing over his tongue. He'd missed this -the closeness, the feel of Shuichi against him- and the brief interlude they had shared in the abandoned apartment building in New York when the singer had shoved his finished lyrics in his face to read for wanted acceptance and had fleetingly kissed him hadn't been enough. Eiri was going to get his share before anything else happened and that exact moment in time seemed to be the best place to do it. Pushing harder against him, the blonde haired author swept his tongue across Shuichi's bottom lip, enticing a faint whimper out of him before pressing further into the warm cavern that tasted of nothing but his lover. A feeble murmur swept through Eiri as Shuichi moved against him in his waking state, causing him to shudder slightly, and the arms looped around his hips tightened drastically, eyes slowly fluttering open to stare back at him with haze filtering through the blue orbs of liquid fire.  
  
"N-nani?" Shuichi began, his mouth opening to protest, but Eiri cut him off with an agonizingly slow kiss that left his words hanging in mid- sentence. The response was instant, and the singer clung to him, mercilessly twining his seeking tongue with his lover's, a whimper rising up into his throat at the savagery of their joined lips. When they eventually broke apart, Eiri upwardly nuzzled the underside of Shuichi's jaw until he became level with his ear, and he nipped on his lobe with practiced finesse.  
  
"Baka," he murmured, riling a shiver out of the lithe boy against him before he began to shake more drastically as that simple word wrapped around his brain and squeezed it tightly. Shuichi's heart threatened to pound out of his chest, he wouldn't have been able to stop it even if he'd tried, and he couldn't control the silent wail beginning to build in his chest as he clung to the lanky frame of the writer he had fallen mercilessly in love with. It had been only a few days since he'd felt, touched, or heard anything from the older man, but it had seemed an eternity to Shuichi, and he was going to cry. He didn't care if the other thought him weak -he'd missed his insults- and it didn't even cross his mind to tell him anything -he knew his talking was unwanted- but his Yuki.  
  
His Yuki had returned to him.  
  
"Naa…naa...Yuki-" He was silenced by a slender finger against his mouth, and the tenderness of the action had tears welling up and slipping down his cheeks. Shuichi bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the sobs escaping him, but he grew even more unsuccessful as he felt Eiri's breath against his skin while he traced a wet path with his tongue down his jaw and over the prominent dip to lap at the glistening drops sliding from his clouded cerulean eyes.  
  
"No more, Shuichi. No more," he whispered, rubbing his nose against his before tilting his head down and joining their lips in another kiss filled with more passion and frenzy. The thin vocalist gripped his waist tightly, the fingertips of his hands sliding over the silk encased skin beneath his shirt, and he moaned unintelligible sounds of appreciation even as he continued to cry, his tears warm between their close faces. Eiri shifted position, rolling them over so that his body was pressing the smaller one into the softness of the mattress, and he instantly began to make his own exploration, reacquainting himself with the familiar territory of his lover's flawless form as Shuichi's legs spread a little wider to accommodate Eiri's full weight on him. They arched together, trying to touch as much of the other as possible in one movement, and the pink haired singer sighed, his weeping subsiding as Eiri tore his mouth away and sent it on a trail down the graceful neck he liked so much. His teeth nipped roughly and lips soothed with stimulating strokes, Shuichi's entire body, aside from his hands, which clutched at his clothing tightly, going limp beneath him.  
  
"Yuki…Yuki...I...Yuki..." He couldn't get past saying his name, and had it been any other time, Eiri would have been surprised. Shuichi didn't know how to be quiet, even in times of necessity, but now the only thing falling from his lips was the one word he had somehow reserved for himself. "Yuki- "  
  
"Shh," he calmed, nestling his free hands into thick clumps of hot pink to tilt Shuichi's head up. "Be quiet…I want-" Eiri cut himself off, trying to avoid the questioning look in the youth's gaze, but as the other's smooth eyebrows rose in wonder and partial amazement, the writer knew that his lover was aware of the things he could never bring himself to admit vocally albeit in his once barricaded heart.  
  
Shuichi knew he had missed him.  
  
"Yuki..." The younger boy bit his lip, almost nervously, and Eiri couldn't resist the small smile forming on his face as he stared down at him, their noses inches apart.  
  
"What is it?" He couldn't avoid the tenderness, not after what he had put the singer through, and he'd wanted this so badly while he'd been away that he could remember sitting beside the window in the rented hotel rooms, tasting strawberry in his mouth and smelling it in the air as he thought of the pop star. Their attraction had been sudden, but so powerful that it had left him with no time to step back and observe the reactions or consequences of it. Eiri had once told the press -with their prying cameras and annoying questions- that living with Shuichi was a good experience to learn from, that they had been doing nothing wrong just because they were both men and sleeping together, and despite it having torn at his chest to see the stunned look his lover had given him as he'd spoken those words, he couldn't make himself take them back, no matter how much he had wanted to. At first, it had seemed like the logical answer, his automatic protection system had kicked into defense at not wanting to admit the truth, but afterwards, he'd realized that it had been a mistake, and meeting Shuichi hadn't become some incident to reflect back on and nod his head at. He'd become trapped within his timid and innocent embrace and didn't want to escape the world they'd created.  
  
There was a small sniffle and painfully sparkling lavender-blue peered up at him.  
  
"Hold me...please…I want to believe that this isn't a dream, that you're really here. Are you?" Any other time, he would have pushed him away -smacked him, insulted him- but with a reluctant sigh, he moved back onto his side, bringing Shuichi with him with a gentle tug.  
  
"Hai, I'm really here. This isn't a dream…Shuichi-chan." In the dark it was hard to see, but he knew that the youth's eyes had tripled in size, but before be could react further, Eiri tapped him softly on the top of his head. "Now go to sleep. I'm tired."  
  
"Naa, Yuki, why do you have to be so mean?" his teasing voice asked even as warm breath slid across the skin of Eiri's neck while Shuichi snuggled up to him. Everything was finally beginning to fall back into place as it had before, and for once, Eiri was happy.  
  


  
* * *  
  
Calm echoes of sneaker-clad feet hitting the linoleum ricocheted throughout NG-Records in the mid-morning of the day, and the door to the third studio room swung open to reveal a panting youth clad in brown khakis and a vest with a plain t-shirt beneath it, a neon orange backpack slung across his chest and one shoulder. Four familiar faces turned their heads in his general direction before returning to what they had been doing, completely at ease with the fact that he was more than an hour late, and a moment later, a brightly polished six-chambered revolver found its way against his temple, already loaded and cocked. Vivid indigo-violet eyes dulled considerable as they turned to stare at the blonde haired man holding him hostage, and the boy grimaced, disliking the dour look on his manager's face.  
  
"You're late," he rasped out in thick Japanese heavily accented with English, and Shuichi smiled nervously, edging slowly away from the muzzle of the gun.  
  
"G-gomen nasai, K-san! There was-"  
  
"Yuki Eiri returned from New York last night," a calm voice finished for him, and the singer let out a sigh of relief as their American supervisor lowered the pistol and slid it reluctantly into the holster clinging to his ribs when his best friend interjected the presiding predicament. There was a heavy thump proceeding, but no one seemed to notice their producer had passed out -most likely from stress- while standing up except for Bad Luck's extremely talented keyboardist, Fujisaki Suguru, who was quickly fanning him with a thin book of music sheet paper. Shuichi spun on his heels, throwing his arms open, ready to embrace his companion as was their old custom, but he was greeted with a raised palm that halted him instead. Gray cobalt eyes smiled gently at him from beneath crimson colored bangs, and the other youth oddly blushed at the glance he was being given.  
  
"Ohayo, Hiro-kun!" he squealed loudly, turning around in a full circle to prance around him in an almost Shuichi-style ceremonial dance. "How did you know? How did you know?" Nakano Hiroshi merely nodded at him.  
  
"You only get that excited when he has done something to make you happy," he replied easily, bracing a graceful hand on the neck of his guitar while moving to stand beside a now revived Sakano-san and the other youth who appeared to be partially depressed. "So...are we going to practice now?" Shuichi gave him a thumb's-up sign and shed his satchel before wrapping slim fingers around the base of the microphone, his mouth open in imitation of the singing that would soon follow.  
  
"Warm up first," K instructed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in a form of relaxation, a complete opposite to the other man nervously pacing back and forth, mumbling about the consequences of not being able to reach deadlines on time. Bad Luck's second CD -prefacing their originally contracted third CD by NG-Records owner, Seguchi Tohma- was set to be released that month as soon as Shuichi had finished creating new lyrics for their last song, and so far, like many times before, he had yet to write a single word.  
  
"Okay," Suguru immediately replied in his limited English, earning an approving nod from their manager as he tuned up the synthesizer for the specific song they were going to practice on, although each of them knew it by heart by now from performing it several times. It had been an interesting and almost traumatic week for the members of the rising-in- popularity band as their lead singer had been in a slump the entirety his lover had been away in the United States, and everyone was glad to be getting back on schedule. Hiro followed suit, running fingers across the strings of his instrument, testing a few chords here and there while Shuichi stood immensely still, raising a concerned look from their heart attack prone producer.  
  
"Shindou-kun, you're not ill are you?! Oh, no, what are we going to do? I have to report to Seguchi-sama before the end of the day and inform him of our progress and-and-" His eyes rolled backwards and he fainted again, landing in a heap of Sakano-san bones at Shuichi's feet.  
  
"Is anything wrong, Shu-chan?" Hiro asked, earning another blush as well as a blank stare from his friend before he shook his head and bound into action once again, although he remained unmoving.  
  
"Anou...let's sing now!" he proclaimed, cueing Suguru with a point of his finger before scowling seriously and concentrating on the flow of music that the keyboardist and guitarist created in combined ease. The simple notes of 'Glaring Dream' flooded the studio, lifting Shuichi's spirits despite the sadness of the intended song. "Nigiyaka na hitogomi o tokeru tsubuyaki ga...ashi moto ni chirabatta omoide nijimaseru-"  
  
The pink-haired soloist froze in mid-phrase when the door suddenly creaked open, revealing a lanky body clad in loose jeans and a partially tight-fitting shirt, the infamous Nittle Grasper logo spread across its pale background, and a lump somehow formed into his throat, refusing to let him continue. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled with longevity as well as something deeper than the content expression radiating on the handsome face, and moss-green tinted brown hair hanging over a red headband glistened with sheen under the artificial light, giving the man an ethereal appearance that no one else in the known world could recreate. Clutched tightly in his arms was a lump of fur with a scarlet ribbon tied around its neck, long ears flopped over towards the ground -Kumagoro-san.  
  
Shuichi found it nearly impossible to move as his idol from the days he had been a little boy sprang into the room, a child-like demeanor overpowering the intimidating presence he had held minutes before.  
  
"Shuichi, Na No Da! Ohayo gozaimasu!" he cried rapidly, nearly squeezing the life from the younger youth as he tackled him to the ground and hugged him. "Are you singing, Shuichi? Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san want to sing with you, Na No!" Instantly, he was on his feet, grabbing the microphone in his left hand while grasping his small stuffed bunny in the other. As soon as his mouth opened, an aura of supremacy flooded over his countenance, changing his outlook completely. The same words flowed from him with more ease than Shuichi had ever possessed, sounding even more mystical without the accompaniment of Suguru's and Hiro's instruments. The vocalist gazed up in amazement, worshipping the resonance pounding through his throbbing ears.  
  
        This was a god.  
  
"Anou-" Ryuichi suddenly stopped in the middle of a word, turning to gape down at him with a gentle smile on his solemn face.  
  
"That's how you shine," he replied softly, reminding him of the lesson he had given him weeks ago before releasing the microphone and scrambling over to K to embrace him in an exceedingly excited hug. Shuichi sat on the ground a moment longer, reluctant to climb to his feet, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping while he moved towards the exit of the room after he stood.  
  
"Shindou-san, where are you going? We have to-" Hiro lifted his hand, stopping Suguru from rushing after the obviously depressed singer before shaking his head in a silent representation of his own thoughts.  
  
Shuichi needed some time to himself.  
  
* * *  
  
Uesugi Tatsuha frustratedly kicked at the flat tire on his motorcycle once more before standing and shoving his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket draped over him in order to examine his surroundings. The sky appeared dismal, clouds heavy and black with intended precipitation, and his instincts told him that it was going to rain. Somehow, his always reliable and trustworthy vehicle had broken down, and the sixteen-year-old was now stranded on a countryside road with little traffic between his hometown of Kyoto and his original destination of Tokyo. His elder brother had called him earlier that morning, rousing him from a dream-filled sleep haunted by images of one Sakuma Ryuichi -his obsession for years- and had point blankly threatened to destroy all of his Nittle Grasper merchandise if he didn't get to his apartment in less time that it took him to fix a cup of hot coffee, and Tatsuha wouldn't put it past Eiri to uphold any of his promises. In order to keep his most sacred possessions safe from a vengeful older sibling -and to maintain what sanity he did have- he'd quickly readied his bike and left without so much a goodbye to his father; not that he would have paid attention to his absence anyway.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, Tatsuha scanned the vacant street, searching for any signs of another car or truck in hopes to ask for a ride into the city, but not finding one, he began to walk, reluctantly leaving his motorcycle behind. He would have preferred to push it all the way to Tokyo, but with the combination of impending weather conditions and the fact that his only means of transportation weighed a good amount despite its petite frame and build, he didn't have a choice and would have to come back for it later. He buried his hands deeper into his coat and slouched his shoulders, trekking at a normal pace and became so consumed in his thoughts that he didn't see the crimson red Mercedes Benz approaching until the squeal of tires nearly deafened him as it stopped.  
  
        "Well, well, what do we have here? Hitch-hiking again, Tatsuha-kun?" a feminine voice questioned him, and the dark haired youth lifted his head to stare at his own reflection in a pair of tinted sunglasses clinging to a face surrounded by shimmering chestnut hair. Tatsuha shrugged his shoulders and sighed exasperatingly before speaking to his sister, the black beret she wore slipping a little to the side.  
  
        "Anou...you know me," he replied, smirking slightly as he took a step back, expecting her to get out of her car and lecture him about leaving home without permission, but she didn't.  
  
        Instead, she merely smiled at him.  
  
        "So you think. Now get in, and I will take you wherever it is you are intending to go because I do not need you sick from walking in the rain," she instructed, leaning easily into the leather-encased seat of the interior while she examined him from beneath her shades.  
  
        "But it's not-" A large drop of water landed on the edge of his nose and rolled to fall on the ground. "-raining."  
  
"Right…are you getting in or do you want me to leave you?" Tatsuha contemplated on listening to his sister but wasn't sure of what to make of the circumstances; she wouldn't usually go out of her way to help him, and this wasn't any different.  
  
"I'm not sure. Are you stalking me, Mika-chan?" There was a sharp laugh.  
  
"I have much better things to do than stalk you, Tatsuha-kun. What's it going to be? It looks dreadfully wet out there." In the past few minutes they had been talking, the sky had torn itself open, drenching the earth, along with Tatsuha, in a thick sheet of water.  
  
"Daijoubu, Mika-chan…where are you willing to take me?" he asked, striding quickly over to the other side of the car with his long legs. Once inside, his sister hit the gas and sped off, leaving dark streaks along the asphalt.  
  
"NG-Records…Tohma needed something," she replied nonchalantly, brushing her hair out of her view as she relaxed into the seat and clenched the steering wheel in a loose grip with one hand. Tatsuha tried not to move, afraid to get anything of Mika's soaked with the liquid dripping off of him for fear of her wrath; she could be as dangerous as Eiri if she wanted to.  
  
"Nani? Then what are you doing out here? Kyoto is a little far from home, don't you think?" Mika tossed her head.  
  
"Something told me you would need help. Just be appreciative, Tatsuha." The youth slumped into the seat, lowering his head to hide the pout working onto his countenance. He prayed that by the time they did reach NG-Records that it had stopped raining long enough for him to reach his older brother's house by foot; it didn't take long to walk there, but he could never be too cautious about things. It was an early lesson he had learned despite reluctance.  
  
"Sure," he mumbled, glancing out the window at the scenery rapidly passing by in a blur. Tatsuha felt foolishly young sitting next to his sister, and even when he was around those the same age as he, he still sensed the same feeling. Numerous people had told him that he looked and acted older than his sixteen years of experience, but he had never believed them; the only thing that actually appeared adult was his sexuality.  
  
         He would never understand any of it.  
  
"Get out," his sister ordered, startling him from thoughts of random nothingness.  
  
"Nani?"  
  
"I said get out. I'm not waiting an eternity for you to wake up, Tatsuha." He shook his head and blinked even as he stared up at the skyscraping NG-Records building. He couldn't even remember them ever actually going through all the traffic Tokyo offered to get here.  
  
"Gomen ne, Mika-chan. Arigato-" Mika gave him a push to open the door and grimaced at the moisture clinging to her hand from his jacket.  
  
"Don't start...now go and give this to Tohma for me before you go to Eiri-san's." She handed him a plastic case -obviously full of CDs- and leaned over him to open the door.  
  
"How did you-" Tatsuha suddenly found himself standing outside, a subsequent drizzle pattering softly around him instead of the thick downpour.  
  
"My secret...now go before you get sick!" she commanded softly, smiling at him before rolling up the tinted window and driving forward, sloshing water back onto his shoes and jeans. Tatsuha frowned, trying his best to wipe off the excess fluid before jogging into the nearest entrance, partially expecting to be hassled by a security guard for an I.D. by the time he made it inside. No one emerged out of the shadows to throw him back out into the weather, and he sighed, looking around to familiarize himself with the part of NG-Records he was in so he could quickly make a stop at his brother-in-law's office and then head to Eiri's apartment. He wasn't as quick to learn places like most of his family -and it had been quite a while since he'd been here- but he would eventually find where he was going, even if he had to ask someone. Tatsuha turned down a corridor, and running into a bunch of vending machines, spun around and went the other direction, peering closely at the signs and tags stuck to several doors.  
  
        The entire interior looked the same!  
  
"Naa, matte! Matte!" a masculine, though childish, voice cried from behind, and Tatsuha unexpectedly found himself lying on the floor, a body clinging to him and a face pressed into his shoulder.  
  
"Nani? Doushite-" Large blue eyes shining with hidden knowledge smiled at him as they peered at him from beneath a red sweatband pushing back ragged brown hair, and Tatsuha realized that his heart was pounding in his throat.  
  
"Gomen nasai, Na No Da! Ohayo gozaimasu! Sakuma Ryuichi desu!" His ears rang with the sound -the name constantly repeating throughout his mind as if it were a sacred chant- and Tatsuha felt his head hit the linoleum before he lost consciousness.  
  
TBC-  
  
A/N: Well, how was it? And, be honest! I'm actually going to finish this up, I'm not really sure how long it's going to be anyway, but with support, I'm sure I can do better than usual. I can already promise at least four more chapters, LOL! ^_^ Plus, if you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to ponder over them.  
  
Please review!


	2. Living Under God

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing.  
  
Warnings: Shounen-ai, fluffiness, weird pairings, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, etc.  
  
Author's Note: *blushes* Wow, everyone that reviewed has REALLY overwhelmed me!! I can't believe so many of you actually liked the beginning of the story. *blinks* Well, I guess that means I'll just have to work hard enough to make sure that none of the following chapters disappoint you. I'll ramble at the end of the track so just sit back and enjoy! ^_^  
  
Track Two: Living Under God  
  
Something warm pressed itself to his forehead and Tatsuha groaned, his fingers shaking even as they reached to feel his face, trying to reassure himself that he was alone, but a soft voice humming a wordless song proved him wrong. His eyes instantly opened, frantically searching for anything familiar, and he only found a large office decorated with record labels on the walls and an empty desk in the center. He moaned again, rolling over, expecting to fall on the floor, but found a serious gaze concentrating directly on him instead.  
  
His cheeks instantly flamed with heat.  
  
"Are you hurt?" The voice was tender and solemn, a complete contrast to the previous tone, and those blue eyes were narrower and less relaxed, a hint of violet-black ringing the pupils.  
  
"I-Iie. I don't t-think so," he stammered, his pulse accelerating even more as Ryuichi's hand reached forward to withdraw the damp cloth. Skin brushed skin and Tatsuha forced himself not to shiver as a tingling sensation ran through him; he felt like he was going to pass out again.  
  
"Good. I was afraid I had," he replied, staring blankly at the material he had clenched between his fingers while Tatsuha shifted and sat up slowly, his arm bracing the back of his skill; it still throbbed with unintended pain.  
  
"Iie, I'm fine. I-" He paused, swallowing harshly before gazing at his lap. "Are you _really_ Sakuma-sama?" A small, yet sad, smile slid onto his lips, and he nodded curtly.  
  
"Hai." The sixteen-year-old immediately suffered a wave of nausea.  
  
"Oh. I-I'm Uesugi Tatsuha. I-I really like you work. I mean, that is...it's-" Tatsuha hid his blushing face in his hands and refused to look at anything. He felt like an idiot, and even that was an understatement. Of all the things he could have said to him -his idol, his role model, his erotic fantasy- he'd had to stutter like some ogling fan-girl.  
  
'Or one of Eiri's admirers,' he thought with distaste as he remembered the fanatic women trying to crawl all over his older brother at one of his books signings, thinking to gain some memento of him. That had been one of the most horrifying days of his life, and he certainly didn't want anyone else, especially Sakuma Ryuichi, thinking that he didn't have a brain or any sense. A soft movement pulled him from his thoughts, and Tatsuha immediately found himself nose to nose with the legendary singer of Nittle Grasper, orbs of indescribable blaze burning into his skull.  
  
"A fan?" he questioned quietly, warm air rippling across Tatsuha's lips from his mouth, and the youth felt all feeling leaving his body. He was less than a millimeter from Sakuma Ryuichi's face, handsome as it was, and he was so close that he could taste the sweet aroma of some type of juice on his breath.  
  
Tatsuha could not have asked for a better heaven.  
  
"H-hai," he replied, trying to keep his voice from cracking like a boy on the verge of reaching puberty; he would die if any further embarrassment was hexed upon him. "Ever since N-Nittle Grasper became a band. That is to say I-" Tatsuha instantly stopped speaking when Ryuichi moved closer, a hand resting with intended pressure on his thigh and their lips closer than all possibility allowed before actually touching.  
  
"Is it true? How old...I know you," he murmured in that deep consensual voice of his that always liquefied his body to mush whenever he heard it, and at that very moment, he no longer recollected anything -his name, who he was, where he was at- but the fact that Sakuma Ryuichi was sliding his fingertips along the rain-dampened jeans plastered to his legs and that he was close enough to kiss him.  
  
Why did he have to be so mature about everything?!  
  
"I don't see how...I...you're..." Their lips brushed for only the briefest second, but Tatsuha felt like it had lasted eternity, and his body gave up functioning, shutting down without compliance even as the door suddenly swung open, allowing two people to enter. Ryuichi ghosted away, Tatsuha aware that his serious demeanor had faded into a mask of childhood bliss, and he suddenly experienced a swell of queasiness that reminded him of his current condition and the ache in the back of his head.  
  
He was alone, confused, and unsatisfied once again.  
  
"TOHMA!" Ryuichi cried enthusiastically, flinging limber arms around the blonde haired man's neck in an informal greeting only known to him, and the owner of NG-Records -as well as producer and gifted keyboardist for Nittle Grasper- smiled, his eyes sparkling beneath the shadow cast over his face by the petite hat he wore. Tatsuha touched his feet to the floor and grimaced, the room spinning momentarily.  
  
"Ryuichi-san," Tohma began with a light tone, observing with a practiced glance, without taking his attention from his friend, that Sakano had stepped to the side, silently awaiting his notification. "What are you..Tatsuha-san!" The boy jumped at the sound, instantly grabbing his skull as it started to throb and attempted to smile.  
  
"Konnichi wa, Tohma-san.I...Mika-chan asked me to bring something for you and...there was a bit of an accident downstairs so...Sakuma-" He stumbled over the name as it rolled from his lips. "Sakuma-sama helped me, and we ended up here." He'd hurriedly rushed through the explanation, leaving him short-winded, and he could hardly breathe.  
  
He'd never talked so fast in his life!  
  
"I see." Tohma pursed his lips before turning to his business rival and companioned producer, who was busily cleaning off his glasses. "Sakano- san...we will discuss what we were speaking about later." The stress-induced man slid the eyewear onto his face, hiding the essentially handsome features of a male in his late twenties and bowed three times, each succession lining his back perfectly parallel to the floor.  
  
"Hai! Hai! Gomen nasai, Seguchi-sama! Please, forgive me!" He bowed again but lower so that his head almost matched the height of his knees.  
  
"Sakano-san.enough. Now-" Before Tohma could say anything else, Sakano had fled after apologizing again, shutting the door softly behind him, and he turned his attention to Ryuichi, who was unexpectedly staring at his younger brother-in-law with a mystified expression on his face. It was strange to see the elusive-tempered singer -who had more ease speaking English than his own native Japanese tongue- completely shrouded in an appearance of contemplation different than that of when he sang or composed songs. Tatsuha, almost seemingly unaware of Ryuichi's constant examination, staggered to his feet unsurprisingly towering over the older men by several inches.  
  
He was tall, like his brother.  
  
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Tohma-san. Mika-chan seemed to be in a hurry and..." He was at a loss for words, and he could abruptly feel Ryuichi's gaze, though somewhat deterred, drilling into him. Tohma grinned, his graceful and almost feminine hands brushing a stray lock of hair from his vision.  
  
"Daijoubu, Tatsuha-san..Ryuichi-san was gracious enough to deliver the case to me, and I had only assumed that Mika-san..perhaps you should call Eiri-san to notify him of your whereabouts? I would assume he might be angry at your ill-punctuality." Tatsuha nearly grabbed his sister's husband by his shoulders in panic.  
  
"Have you spoken with him recently?!"  
  
"Hai." The teenager swept a nervous glance at Ryuichi even as he clenched his fingers into a fist.  
  
"Did he sound...upset?" If there was anything Tatsuha feared most in the known world, it was his elder brother's anger. He would pretend that the faulted crime didn't bother him and then strike at the least suspecting moment, venting all of his wrath. Eiri's mood swings, he would admit, had somewhat lessened since Shindou Shuichi's abrupt and unexpected move into his sibling's apartment and his heart, but they were still frightening, and therefore, the self-proclaimed brave youth had only one thing to worry about.  
  
"A little fatigued, perhaps, but other than that.he sounded like Eiri-san." Tatsuha tilted his head to the side, contemplating Tohma's reply, and he sighed with pent-up relief, his tightened hands running over his face to smooth away the lines of stress.  
  
"If he isn't mad then I think I should get there as quickly as possible...though I don't know how I'm going to explain why I'm late," he mumbled, bowing low before trying to leave, but warm skin enveloped his wrist, halting him, and he knew, without reason and beyond a doubt, that Ryuichi had touched him again.  
  
"Matte, Tatsuha-kun," he instructed, his name sounding almost reverent in his lowered and rich voice. "I will accompany you, if you'd like."  
  
His heart instantly stopped and refused to work again.  
  
Tatsuha turned to the side, noticing the failed-to-hide grin working onto Tohma's mouth and blinked, thinking the entire ordeal was some dream of his over-active imagination. In all his life, nothing this spectacular had ever happened to him, even after he had met his sister's fiancé and had realized that he was one-third of the infamous Nittle Grasper band, but now-  
  
He could die happy and not think twice about it.  
  
"I-I wouldn't mind it, but..don't you have to be here? Tohma-san-" Tohma held up his hands.  
  
"Ryuichi-san is free to come and go as he pleases. I have no say in most things that he does," he replied, winking inconspicuously at the particularly hopeful Sakuma Ryuichi.  
  
"Naa...ARIGATO, TOHMA!" he cried, nearly choking the unsuspecting man in another hug before cheerfully skipping over to the large desk to retrieve his faithful bunny companion. "Come on, Kumagoro-san..we are going on a trip, Na No Da!" He hummed lightly as he hopped over to where Tatsuha was standing and looped his arm around the youth's own, haphazardly dragging him out of the door without a second thought. Tohma, now alone in his spacious office, walked over to his chair and sat in it, instantly reaching for the phone placed strategically on the wood surface of the bureau-like piece of furniture.  
  
"It's Seguchi Tohma," he said into the receiver, reclining back as he twisted the plastic cord around his finger. "Get me an outside line to Yuki Eiri please."  
  
* * *  
  
Red-piercing eyes smudged beneath with faded circles from lack of sleep peered hatefully over the brim of the collar of a dark trench coat at the pair of men weaving in and out of the mid-day crowd of people together. One he immediately recognized despite the disguise of an enlightening baseball cap and shadowed pair of sunglasses to be the infamous Sakuma Ryuichi, and the hidden man sneered, his handsome features almost twisting into something grotesque. His companion was tall and dark, like himself, but he couldn't tell who he was. Not that it mattered, he mused quietly to himself as he stood up from the small café seat he sat in and pulled on a pair of shades. The guy looked like a stiff-neck and star-struck as well.  
  
'Another one of _his_ faithful followers,' he thought in disgust as he crossed the street unnoticed and moved so that he was stealthily walking behind them. He could easily translate all that Ryuichi said due to the excited, high-pitch of his voice, but the other was quiet, silently agreeing with everything he had to say without actually speaking and leaving him in complete mystery as to who he was. He couldn't make out the face well, and the only thing that had caught his attention about Ryuichi was the faded ball of fluff clutched tightly in his arms.  
  
It was his signature trademark.  
  
"We're going to meet your otouto-san...hai?" With a brief nod from the mysterious youth, for he knew he could not be much older than seventeen or eighteen despite his older appearance, Ryuichi launched into a jumble of noises, painstakingly injuring his sensitively developed ears. "Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san love meeting new people, don't we, Kumagoro-san, Na No Da?" In an enthusiastic attempt to lighten the mood, his hand nodded the miniature bunny's head, and the most concise of smiles appeared on his friend's face. The man following them abruptly stopped when he sensed their slowed pace, allowing quickly walking people to push past him in an attempted camouflage as the boy turned to look behind him, expecting to find something.  
  
'Keep going, brat.' His thoughts rang clear, and he stepped into the shadows of the nearest building, pretending to be interested in the still darkened sky, but he watched them closely and could hear Ryuichi's voice broadcast over the hustle and bustle of the traffic.  
  
"Daijoubu-ka, Tatsuha-kun?" The watcher's ears perked up. So, the punk's name was Tatsuha? Although it sounded somewhat familiar, it would not help him; he wasn't interested in _this_ boy.  
  
"Anou...oh...hai, hai. Daijoubu, Sakuma-sama," he replied clearly, beginning his ascent up the street once more with the genki singer skipping beside him. "Let's hurry and meet Eiri-san before it rains again." And, it looked like it would; the sky was a terrible off-shade of gray and getting thicker with each passing second.  
  
The other man took note of the same predicament and turned around, heading towards the NG-Records' monumental foundation with newfound speed. He could never understand why the greatest legend in Japanese pop music was so childish -doing childish things, talking with childish people- but it was one of his allures that drew a crowd. He'd had that once -fame, popularity, a voice that melted ice- but one incident had stolen it from him, wiping his slate clean and staining it with blood. No one had understood his motives behind what he had done -and why. They'd only taken the side of a foolish thing that only thought himself to be a musician -not a girl, barely a boy- and ASK had become nothing, just a whispered name in the weeks that had passed.  
  
Tachi Aizawa thirsted for revenge, and he moved faster towards his destination, a smirk on his lips.  
  
* * *  
  
Shuichi panted for air, slipping down the wall he leaned against and falling into a liquefied pile of tanned skin and pink hair as the fatigue finally washed over him. His throat was raw from singing, it almost hurt to breathe, and this was the type of practice his band expected of him every time he held a microphone. He'd moped into the studio about an hour after he'd voluntarily left -having spent a good five hundred yen on a variety of vending machine items to wallow in- and Sakano-san had already been gone while the other members had been lightly chatting about nothing in particular. K, his whereabouts formerly unknown, had stood right behind him the moment he'd entered the door, his revolver cocked and the normal scheming look in his hazard sign bright blue eyes present. Shuichi hung his head to the side, his mouth suddenly drier than before at the memory, and a bottle of spring water magically appeared in his blurring line of vision. Quickly snatching it from the hand that offered the ambrosia, Shuichi guzzled more than half before taking notice of his best friend propped against the doorway beside him, his shoulder used as leverage.  
  
"Naa, Hiro, arigato," he mumbled, placing the cap on the top and rolling the container between his pale fingers. He didn't know Hiro had moved, his thoughts being elsewhere, until he felt his presence next to him, the skin of his guitar string-calloused hands softly caressing the backs of Shuichi's knuckles with a tender sweep even as he continued to move the bottle.  
  
"You did well today," he murmured in the supple voice designated only for his companion. "Even Fujisaki-san-" Shuichi immediately slumped into the other youth's arms, the water-filled plastic flask rolling towards the opposite side of the hall, and he buried his nose against Hiro's shoulder, the feeling of his embrace comforting. He could remember them holding each other this way, years and years before as old and close friends would, and for some reason he couldn't quite figure out, he'd wished to be back in that time, the one where he didn't love Yuki Eiri and had only Hiro.  
  
"I'm so stupid, Hiro," he whimpered faintly, closing his eyes against the onslaught of teas already threatening to well up and fall. "Everyone's right. I am a baka." Hiro moved his head slightly, pressing his ear to the top of Shuichi's crown, allowing his lengthy red hair to fall over his friend's features.  
  
"So you listen to everything someone says about you?" From the way Shuichi sniffled and refused to respond, Hiro knew the answer was 'yes.' "Shuichi, people only say those things to-"  
  
"He doesn't treat me the same anymore!" the singer cried suddenly, squeezing the warm body pressed close to him as he finally began to weep.  
  
"Who?" He asked, though he already knew.  
  
"Y-Yuki...he's been-been too nice...Hiro...he won't be angry with me or hit me or call me names.." Hiro chuckled softly and began to stroke Shuichi's back as he felt the hot tears soak into his white t-shirt.  
  
"You would rather have him be this way?"  
  
"Iie...h-hai...I-I mean...he's going to leave me again!!" he wailed, the shrill sound echoing down the hallway.  
  
"Shuichi," Hiro replied, trying to ignore the way his best friend since childhood was wiggling closer to him. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps Yuki Eiri is trying to resolve all the conflicts he has involving you? He has been in Japan for less than a day..do you honestly believe he would throw you out right after everything that's happened?" Through the entirety Hiro had been talking, Shuichi's crying had subsided to tiny tremors and small, barely audible sobs.  
  
"You throw me out," he finally answered, leaning back to stare into cobalt blue eyes that matched the solemn expression of his face. Hiro lifted a hand and wiped at the wetness on his cheeks.  
  
"That's because you bother me." His statement made Shuichi's profile scrunch up into an awkward shape, and at first, Hiro thought he was going to cry again, but instead, he merely blinked.  
  
"Hiro?"  
  
"Nani?"  
  
"Anou.I...anou...would-would you have...if I'd never met Yuki and-" Hiro tried to hide his surprise at the directness of Shuichi's question but found it failing. Even after all this time, his friend never knew how he'd truly felt about him -what he wouldn't have given to possess him in all the ways a person could be taken- and despite having told him countless times, and having been ignored every single one, he'd just given up, believing Shuichi to be too dense to realize that he had always wanted more than friendship. Now, the clearness of what Shuichi asked stunned him, and he thought he could feel himself blushing.  
  
"We'll never know," he eventually responded, smiling gently, and Shuichi bit his lip, still unsure. "Come on...I'll take you home, and then you can find out for yourself what I mean." He lightly tapped Shuichi under the chin with his finger and pulled away from his grasp, standing to tower over his still contemplating partner. Abruptly, Shuichi leapt up, swinging his arms around Hiro's neck in a momentary burst of happiness.  
  
"HIRO! You're my best friend!!" he yelped, grabbing both his hand and his once forgotten orange backpack before trying to drag Hiro down the hallway. "Let's go! Let's go!" There was a grin on his face even as he allowed Shuichi to pull him.  
  
"What's the hurry? It will all be there when we-" Hiro broke off his sentence as his propelled body collided with the smaller one in front of him; Shuichi had stopped. "Nani? Shuichi, what's wrong?"  
  
"I-I think I just saw Tatsuha-san." Shuichi, without any further explanation, shot off down the corridor, his lithe frame carrying him quickly over the linoleum tiles, and Hiro stood blinking, partially confused. He could only remember meeting Uesugi Tatsuha once, it being very briefly since it had been during their last concert when Shuichi had fallen through the stage floor, but he distinctly recalled Yuki Eiri's younger brother -the genetic code for blinding appeal obviously being in the family- saying that he lived in Kyoto. That particular city was a good distance away.  
  
What would he being doing in Tokyo, far from home?  
  
"Matte! Shuichi!" His brain kicked into gear, finding something off about the entire situation, and he chased after him, rounding the corner he'd seen him turn. "Shuichi-" Hiro stopped, his eyes nearly falling from their sockets as the sight that greeted him. Shuichi was visibly trembling, his arms dropped to rest at his sides, and he was shaking his head furiously, strands of hot pink whipping his face as he took a step backwards.  
  
"I-Iie. Iie. You're supposed to be gone...Seguchi-san..." Hiro could only stare, his body unwilling to cooperate with his thoughts so that he could help his friend, and Shuichi huddled away, wrapping himself in his own grip to convince himself that none of it was real.  
  
"I thought I would receive a warmer welcome than this," a voice that haunted the genki singer's nightmares murmured softly, and Hiro couldn't stop his lips from moving or the name from sounding.  
  
"Tachi Aizawa-"  
  
TBC-  
  
A/N: *stares* Oh, wow. Heh, I guess I left it off in a very bad spot, ne? Hmm, well, just to let everyone know, I am going to be updating every week, maybe even twice a week if my ideas keep coming as fast as they are in my head (^_^), and I hope that everyone will be able to stick with me through all this. This fic is going to take a bumpy turn from here on out! O.o I wonder what everyone will think when they find out what I'm going to do *snickers insanely*  
  
I'd like to give thanks to everyone that's reviewed so far. I can't believe people actually like this story! Anyway, the threats of Kumagoro beams (hehe) and lots of hugs from everyone is really inspiring me to work harder on this. I hope everyone likes the following chapters.  
  
One more note: a BIG thank you to my beta reader, Pato San! She is the best! If anyone's interested, she's writing an *AWESOME* fic called War of Hearts. It's only got three chapters so far, but the angst is climaxing and there is going to be a whole slew of things to come! I know a lot of you would enjoy it!  
  
Check out her fic and please review! 


	3. Returning a Favor

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing.  
  
Author's Note: OMG! I swear, if everyone keeps flattering me the way that they are, I think I'm going to go into shock! So, it's really enjoyable, ne? Well, I don't know about that, considering that this fic is going to take an UNEXPECTED turn, but there were some things that I have enjoyed writing! This chapter was a bit longer than usual, but I'm sure no one minds. Naa, I will ramble quite lengthily at the end, so enjoy!  
  
Warnings: uncontrollable fluff (okay, so I like to write it), OOC Yuki, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and failure to remember exact occurrences from the anime (I am shameless, hehe).  
  
Track Three: Returning a Favor  
  
Eiri's irresistible -and terrifying- gaze perforated his younger brother's as he watched him cross the bare wooden floor, puddles of water being left behind with each step. Directly trailing him, almost as faithfully as an obedient puppy, was Sakuma Ryuichi, as equally wet and soaked to the skin, his pale-colored shirt now see-through and clinging openly to his well-shaped, though somewhat skinny, frame. He stood in the middle of the room and held Kumagoro-san in front of him, wringing the bunny in a tight circle to relieve the stuffed animal of the liquid making it heavier than normal. Tatsuha chuckled, but upon noticing his sibling's eyebrow twitch, he quieted.  
  
"I hope you had fun, Tatsuha," Eiri spoke sarcastically, his gruff voice sounding rougher than usual. Ryuichi skirted away from the writer as he walked towards them, using Tatsuha as a shield even though he peered over his shoulder to gaze at the blonde-haired man. There were few people in the known world that Ryuichi would not dare to touch or make angry, and Yuki Eiri was one of them. He seemed to be the coldest person alive, but according to his fellow singer and music rival, he wasn't as bad as he let on. Ryuichi begged to differ albeit he'd never admit it to anyone.  
  
"Aniki," Tatsuha began, his pitch edging towards whiny. "Can't I explain." Eiri reached for a crumbled pack of cigarettes sitting on the nearest table, shaking it so see if any resided within.  
  
"What's there to explain? You're late and dripping water all over my floor," he spat, crumbling the carton before throwing it into a metal wastebasket at his feet upon finding it empty. Ryuichi, having quickly lost interest in the frothing fight developing between the brothers, had drawn a broken pile of crayons from his jeans pockets and was sitting cross- legged on the ground, furiously scribbling tiny random pictures and kanji characters into the wood finish. Eiri rapidly found a new box of cigarettes and lit one, the nicotine-filled stick calming his nerves, and Tatsuha tried swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
"I...gomen ne, Aniki, but...I-I thought.." Eiri blew a cloud of smoke into his sibling's face, causing him to cough.  
  
"Well, that must have hurt."  
  
"Nani? Aniki." Tatsuha trailed off, evaluating his words, and he suddenly took a step back, nearly crushing Ryuichi's hand as he wrote an English word deeply into the now colorful area with a black crayon. "That was low!"  
  
"Not any lower than your punctuality record, Tatsuha. Should I even allow you to be here? You and your friend," he quoted the word with a quick flash of his fingers, "are destroying my home."  
  
"But that's not my fault, Aniki. Maybe if you-" Eiri arched a finely shaped eyebrow at him after removing the cigarette from his mouth.  
  
"Maybe if I what? You're more pathetic than he is..always obsessing over things beyond your reach...like him for example," Eiri proclaimed, indicating the older man happily scrawling with the pastel-colored wax who immediately lifted his head to stare at the romance novelist and youth. Tatsuha's pale face was beginning to heat with the slightest indication of a blush, and he refused to meet the other's gaze. At first, the teen had been unsure of who he'd been speaking about, but then the obvious made itself clear; Eiri was comparing him with his lover, Shindou Shuichi and didn't appear ready to stop his assault.  
  
"M-matte, Aniki...you don't-" Eiri smiled that bewitching grin of his -the one that made him look as sinister as he was beautiful- and flicked ashes into the small tray near his hand, which rested on the table.  
  
"Oh, I think I do, Tatsuha," he stated, acutely aware of the strange transformation befalling the legendary singer staring up at them, his fingers poised delicately around the crayon, unmoving. "You're sixteen years old and instead of concentrating on important things that will help you, you're infatuated with a...a man almost twice your age." Tatsuha's cheeks were so crimson that they were nearly violet, and he could clearly see the question in Ryuichi's narrowed eyes that asked 'are you really that young?'. He swallowed harshly, feeling as though he had betrayed them both in some way.  
  
"I.you said you wouldn't lecture me about what I did with my life. I can do what I want, Aniki, and that includes any "infatuations" I might have with _anyone_!" he shot back, scowling with an equally frightening grimace. "You make your own choices! Why can't I let you me make mine?!" Eiri seemed unfazed by the small speech, leaving his younger brother's lips trembling.  
  
"I know what I told you, Tatsuha," he replied coolly, extinguishing the half-smoked cigarette. "However.despite what you might think, I am your brother and what you decide to do with your life up until the point you are an adult is my concern. I don't want you turning out like that baka singer who believes everything can be accomplished with just a fraction of the determination it actually takes. He relies on everyone else for his confidence-" Tatsuha clenched his fist, pointing back at Ryuichi.  
  
"I do NOT gain my reliance from things like _that_!" he shouted, not realizing that his words of defense were spreading a mass amount of pain across a certain man's face. "I never have, and now you try to worry about me after six years?! It's too late for that, Uesugi Eiri! Ever since you left that day for America, I've had to do it myself. What makes you think I need you now?!" Eiri calmly walked to stand before him, his hands finding their way to damp, broad shoulders. He hadn't actually looked at his brother for a long time, and Eiri realized that Tatsuha was right; while he had been away -and even when he'd still been in Japan- his closest sibling had grown up without him. His features, which Eiri could distinctly remember being chibi-like years ago, were matured beyond all expectations, and if his ragged black hair was replaced with highlighted gold and his shadowed pupils faded to the lemon-green hue of his own, Eiri would have been staring at a mirror image of himself, only younger. It frightened him to know that his only brother, more Japanese than he could ever hope to be, was beyond being like him.  
  
He was his near twin!  
  
"Tatsuha.I haven't asked anything of you," he whispered, brutally resisting the urge to brush locks of ebony silk from the youth's forehead in an attempt to recover something that had been lost to him. "But you are still there when I need you..Shuichi told me what you did for him." It was odd to hear that name pronounced in his melodious low-bass voice, but Tatsuha was drowned in the hypnotic tone flowing into his ears and over his heart, and he ceased to care. He knew how much the petite boy -hardly worth being called the adult he actually was- meant to his brother, and when Eiri had completely disappeared, Tatsuha had been there, holding the youth's hand and broken heart, trying to make amends. He'd even held him while he'd cried himself to sleep some nights, perverted thoughts pushed aside though in his confusion and upset, Shuichi had tried to take "advantage" of him, calling him by his brother's name in a desperate effort to feel the "love" Yuki Eiri had given him.  
  
He doubted he remembered, and he would _never_ tell Eiri.  
  
"Aniki-"  
  
"Shh.Tatsuha...I want to thank you. It must have been difficult for you, considering his rather clingy reputation," he continued, smiling ever so slightly at the humorous thoughts flashing in his brain. Suddenly, Tatsuha wondered if Eiri could, indeed, read minds and if he had figured out what Shuichi had ventured to do to him; he blushed. "And, I also want to promise you something else. Something with a little more sustenance to it than the empty words of a bitter man-"  
  
"Aniki, you aren't bitter..." Eiri's hand promptly covered Tatsuha's mouth to prevent him from speaking further.  
  
"You only say that because you are my brother, but you truly haven't any idea whatsoever, Tatsuha," he muttered sourly, sneering sadly at his own words. "Do you remember that song? The one I wrote for your Nittle Grasper?" Tatsuha nodded numbly, picturing the exact moment -not believing that Eiri had called the mystical Nittle Grasper band his- and Ryuichi, who had been quiet, as well as lost in his own personal memories of the past, looked directly at Eiri, who stared back.  
  
"Himei hodo mujaki na yoru ga hoshii," the vocalist murmured in his lyrical voice, startling the pair with his perceptiveness to understand what the infamous novelist was trying to say. In a slower tone he added, "Subete wa suna ni naru...". Eiri nodded, turning his attention back to Tatsuha.  
  
"I want innocent more than screams," he repeated in English, hoping the teen could translate it though he knew the Japanese perfectly. "Everything turns to sand."  
  
"Eiri...I..."  
  
"It was that song that kept me from insanity, Tatsuha. The past threatened to kill me though I thought myself from its torture, and I had to write those words to save what was left of my soul. The baka boy never got it, but he was my connection to hope. I wanted to be innocent as you are..as you were in your childhood, but only agony was left." Eiri turned his head away, suddenly feeling weak. "Tatsuha, don't lose what it is that you have. It eventually melts into something useless if you don't know what to do with it."  
  
"I...Eiri, I'm-" The sharp, shrill sound of a phone ringing somewhere within the apartment cut through Tatsuha's speechlessness and the silence, and Eiri moved away, the softness and tender demeanor dissolving with a wave of his hand as if it had never existed in the beginning.  
  
"I'll be back. Don't get too comfortable," he commanded, entering the room he'd designated specifically for his laptop and writing sessions, leaving Tatsuha and Ryuichi alone. The singer, instantly abandoning his half-finished "masterpiece," leapt to his feet, Kumagoro-san clutched tightly to him in a newer appeal of affection though his precious, gem- glistening eyes were troubled.  
  
"Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san should be leaving now, Tatsuha-kun," he whispered delicately, averting his gaze to stare at the floor instead. "We have worn out our welcome."  
  
"Iie! Iie, Sakuma-sama, you haven't! You shouldn't let Eiri get to you like that! It's one of his less-admiring qualities, I admit," Tatsuha pleaded, afraid that his idol somehow thought him an idiot like he had feared. Ryuichi, beside himself with internal grief, smiled for his benefit.  
  
"It's not that.Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san must go because there are things that need our attention." He stepped close, a drop of water, which had not dried, sliding down his cheek and along his jaw like a lonely tear as he tilted his head back to look at him.  
  
"Oh." Tatsuha immediately felt beyond ignorant, but everything was starting to become incoherent at Ryuichi's proximity. It didn't seem that he knew what his closeness did to him, but perhaps in his own way, Ryuichi comprehended it all. "Sakuma-sama?" A shadowed grin greeted him, but the haunted look in Ryuichi's sapphire-shaded orbs sent a chill through Tatsuha.  
  
"Hai?"  
  
"I...I was...how did you know what Eiri was trying to tell me? I don't understand." Ryuichi's fingers skimmed over Tatsuha's cheek and briefly touched his lips before he drew away to head towards the door.  
  
"I've experienced the same delusion of reality-" And without a sound, Ryuichi -as well as Kumagoro-san- was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
"Tachi...Aizawa...what are you doing back at NG-Records?! I thought Seguchi-san gave you specific orders never to return here," Hiro spoke, his voice finally returning. The red-haired youth had placed an arm around Shuichi's shoulders, but his friend was transfixed in permanent shock, his entire body still visibly shaking. Aizawa, a tenacious grin plastered to his lips, threw his head back and laughed psychotically, his hands withdrawing from the pockets of his trench coat.  
  
"The only thing Seguchi Tohma did was direct me towards the front of an on-coming car. I was never prohibited from setting foot on NG-Records property." He gazed at his finely shaped hands, the manicured nails glistening beneath the artificial light. "How's the band, Shindou-san? Still stealing the spotlight from hapless competitors?" Shuichi opened his mouth, the beginnings of a sound on the tip of his tongue, but then he turned around and threw himself into Hiro's arms, whimpering.  
  
"Save me," he ordered almost inaudibly, the entire ordeal with Tachi Aizawa resurfacing.  
  
_"Go ahead and scream...or cry...there isn't anyone to hear you. Even that pathetic Yuki Eiri would do nothing for you. I'll call him here if you don't believe me," Aizawa insisted, a sneer clinging to his taut features. Shuichi could feel the tightening of strong arms around his own, but he smiled nonetheless, momentarily unafraid of the man who was holding him captive by using three randomly selected thugs off the streets of Tokyo as mindless minions.  
  
"If...if you touch Yuki...I'll...I'll kill you with my own hands!" he warned, the feel of Aizawa pulling on his lank pink hair oddly reminding him of the pain his abdomen was in. It was probably already bruised with the imprint of a shoe bigger than the width of his torso.  
  
"Have it your way! You asked for this the day you dared rival ASK!" Aizawa threw his head back, releasing it, and Shuichi struggled fiercely, his strength centered on escaping, but two strangers holding him chuckled in his ear, their breath stale and sour, as one of them ran fingers under his shirt and over the sore skin, making him freeze with terror.  
  
"Does your stomach hurt?" Shuichi pulled again on the hold restraining him, terrified now -as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest- and the third guy, his hair spiking and ears pierced several times, approached him, licking his lips and a burning gaze in his slit eyes. The singer bit deeply into his lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out as they beat and violated his defenseless body, each but Aizawa taking their turn. Somewhere off in the distance, when the anguish had been offset to a mere thrashing of fists and kicking of feet, Shuichi could hear the click of some machine -a camera- and he blacked out after that, unable to conceal anymore pain. When he awoke again, some time later, he was alone and half-naked, his clothes lying ripped and torn in a pile beside him, and Shuichi shut his eyes, the only thing he could move at the time and wept silently, hot tears comforting his injured face.  
_  
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," Hiro whispered, stroking his friend's hair before glaring at Aizawa. "What Bad Luck does is none of your concern. Get lost before I help you.." The former musician lifted up his hands in defense.  
  
"I asked for no trouble. You're the one threatening me." Hiro firmly held Shuichi to him, feeling the youth instantly cling to him like Velcro, and he clenched his teeth, realizing that Shuichi was lost in some fantasy world involving painful memories of betrayal and rape.  
  
"I'm not threatening you, yet, Tachi-san, but if I must then I will. Now, step aside and let us pass or do you need assistance with that, too?" Aizawa scowled, his lower lip jutting out into a partial snarl, but he gave them room, the younger boy instantly moving forward, half-dragging Shuichi with him. Hiro didn't look back until they were well out of sight and near the front of the building where he had parked his motorcycle. He shook Shuichi, thinking to revive him, though he was still awake, and he sighed a frustrated breath when the limp singer clung tighter to him, his thin arms nearly choking off his air supply unintentionally.  
  
"Shuichi, get a hold of yourself and look at me. He didn't do anything to you." He paused and stared at him, noticing the dead glaze in his usually vivid eyes. "Shuichi, are you listening to me?"  
  
"I don't want to," he yelped, sniffling loudly in his ear. "Please don't make me..." At a loss for words, as well as beyond annoyed, Hiro skillfully reached around Shuichi, his hand unzipping and slipping into the bright orange backpack he had slung around him, extracting the cell phone Shuichi always carried. Hiro had a good idea who to call, but he couldn't remember the number, despite his friend having lived with him for almost two months, and he hit a random speed dial digit, praying to get the correct one. The ringing lasted a good minute and on the eighth faded noise, he was ready to hand up until a click, proceeded by a gruff voice, sounded.  
  
"This better be important." A smile spread across Hiro's face.  
  
"Yuki Eiri, there is something I must discuss with you," he replied, aware of the slight increase of breath on the other side.  
  
"Who." A small chuckled escaped the older man. "What is it that you want?" Hiro, licking his lips in an almost nervous manner, hurriedly relayed the details of their meeting with Tachi Aizawa to his best friend's lover, instantly scared of the silence that followed.  
  
"Is everything-"  
  
"Can you get him here or do you need help?" Hiro blinked at the unexpected request.  
  
"I can manage," he finally answered, intently aware of the heat flooding through him from Shuichi's proximity. "He's still mobile."  
  
"Good-" A second later, the line went dead, and Hiro replaced his companion's phone, carrying him outside to where his trustworthy bike sat. He had never placed anything in front of him while he'd driven before -Shuichi had always ridden behind him with his body pressed snuggly to his- but it seemed he didn't have a choice; Shuichi wouldn't clutch at anything but his neck. Hiro eased him onto the seat, steadying him with a practiced hand, but before he could do anything else, fingers enveloping a fistful of his loose t-shirt gripped him tightly.  
  
"Shuichi," Hiro whispered, trying to pull away from the hold. "You have to let me get my arm around you." Shuichi's grip melted away, and Hiro straddled his bike, a supportive limb wrapped securely around a thin waist, pink hair tickling the side of his face when Shuichi reclined back, resting on him. The position was all too inviting, he would never have known, but Hiro quelled his thoughts, furious with himself for thinking such things. It was true he desired his best friend in a way that was forbidden to a relationship, but he had not realized how much it had hurt after he'd told Shuichi to get a lover, either boy or girl, when all he'd wanted was the singer to choose him, and he'd picked someone else -a man with fame, sex appeal, and a number of other qualities Hiro did not have. There was only one person he could love without being expected to be so many things he wasn't, and he had unconditionally allowed him to slip away.  
  
Hiro would admit that there had been others, albeit the number was less than the fingers on his hand, but none had a fraction of the traits Shuichi possessed. He had even experienced a flicker of attraction for a certain Kyoto girl that contributed more to him than he could ever have asked, but time had told them that it wasn't right to be together as anything other than friends, and Ayaka had known, though she had never said, how he'd truly felt for Shuichi.  
  
"Yuki..." The soft moan pulled him from jumbled thoughts, and Hiro realized that he'd almost missed the correct apartment. It was a miracle in itself he had made it this far without any accidents, and he couldn't even remember ever starting his motorcycle.  
  
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," he repeated, turning off the ignition after coming to a stop and gracefully sliding to the ground with Shuichi in his arms. "Don't worry." Hiro situated him in his grasp and appeared in front of Eiri's door in less time than he'd thought; Shuichi really didn't weigh very much. The apartment opened without Hiro having to push the buzzer and cobalt came face to face with somber lime for the first time in nearly a month. He would have bowed out of respect, but all he could do was nod his head.  
  
"He doesn't appear to be mobile, the baka," Eiri examined, an unexpected grin on his face, and Hiro swallowed. The man looked like a dangerous feline stalking prey.  
  
"I believe you should take him now," Hiro instructed, presenting the wide-eyed, yet stiff, boy to the lover whose place he wanted to take. "He wants you."  
  
"Of course," he replied, smiling with sarcasm at the double meaning in his words as Shuichi was exchanged from roughened sun-burnt hands to smoother pale ones molded for the thing they did best -writing fictional romances for young women already in love with him.  
  
Hiro did his best not to scowl and bowed.  
  
"Please, take care of him..." Hiro glanced up from beneath his crimson bangs, surprised to find tenderness on the usually stoic writer's face. His hand was absently petting the soft skin of Shuichi's cheek, and Hiro had to fight back a wave of impending jealousy.  
  
"He will be fine," Eiri told him, reaching down with Shuichi still in his arms to slip off his gyms shoes and set them aside.  
  
"And the concert tomorrow." The novelist caught the edge of the door in his free hand, sizing up the youth.  
  
"You will have your singer there." And, Eiri promptly closed Hiro out of his personal world, frantically lifting Shuichi so that he was forced to stare at him with lifeless eyes. "Shuichi? Shuichi?"  
  
"Y-Yuki??" The genki vocalist blinked, tears brimming in his sapphire blue orbs, and he closed them, the liquid slipping down his colorless cheeks. "You know my name..." Eiri would have laughed had he not been on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Shuichi had only once looked as though he was dead, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of them.  
  
"Baka," he muttered, tightening his hold on him as he leaned down to kiss him. The moment didn't last long due to Shuichi's crying, but he was moving now, clinging hopelessly to his taller lover. Eiri vaguely comprehended that he was wearing his favorite shirt and that it was getting ruined by the tears soaking into it, but he shrugged it off and wrapped Shuichi into a tighter embrace, lifting him on to the tips of his toes.  
  
He could always buy another.  
  
"Aniki?" Eiri's eyes immediately flashed open at the voice. He'd completely forgotten that his brother was there, and he was standing at the other end of the hall, looking at him strangely. The writer easily lifted Shuichi into his arms and walked with him past Tatsuha towards _their_ room.  
  
"Don't touch anything," he commanded, disappearing entirely behind another door, and Tatsuha smiled.  
  
TBC-  
  
A/N: Well? LOL. Okay, so it didn't suck that much, and I'm sure everyone wants to kill me with the Hiro/Shuichi teasing. *snicker* Don't blame me, blame the muses. Plus, I hope it wasn't too confusing (I'm sorry if my writing's unclear *pout*). Anyway, what to say about this chapter?? Not too much, I guess. If you can't tell already, I LOVE writing Yuki. He is such the sadist! But, there's also that sweet gentle side to him that has everyone melting into a puddle *melts* See? ^_^ Oh, also, I am aware that everyone has there preference in pairings (too many to list, so I'm not going to do that), but I hope *crosses fingers* that everyone will continue to read this fic despite the weirdness that's going to take place in the next couple of chapters. And, believe me, it is WEIRD! My beloved beta reader, Pato San, nearly freaked out when I mentioned to her my upcoming plans (yes, we secretly talk about our stories behind your backs *evil, conspiring laugh*), but when she beta-ed what I had typed (ahh, the good things about being a beta reader), she convinced me that I did a good job handling 'The Weirdness.' So, uh, yeah-  
  
Alright, enough with the ramblings. Response to reviews:  
  
Punky girl: Of course I know what you mean ^_~ It's going to seriously kick butt later..I hope.  
  
Panatlantic: THANKS! I'm glad you liked it.  
  
ShadowWarriorJessica: Naa, you are so awesome! Thanks for the support. Oh, and don't worry about not finding enough Ryuichi. He's going to be playing a MAJOR role in the rest of the fic, so don't worry. Also, no more Kumagoro beams! My poor little body can't take it . LOL  
  
BrokenAngelYue: Yep, the evil one has returned (okay, that sounded like some bad cliché from 'The Lion King.' O.o). I love Aizawa! It's fun getting into his demented little mind and making him seem a little saner than everyone thinks he is. Ai is not as bad as they made him out to be. At least, not in my head he isn't. LOL. If you liked the Tatsuha/Ryuichi pairing so far, I hope you like what's to come, and poor Hiro! *cries* Life had to be unfair to my favorite bishounen, ne? Or, am I being cruel? *shrugs*  
  
Moonfairy2000: *blushes* Oh, stop it already. That was too much. ^_^ Thanks.  
  
Black Dios: Now, now, Red Moon, there's no need to get all worked up. *snicker* I hope she didn't hurt you too bad! I don't want anything to happen to my precious reviewers before I can even begin to delve into the plot of the story. Oh, and one more thing: I'm not very nice, but I'm glad you think so :P  
  
To anyone else that reviewed after I posted this: *gasp* Thank you so much for supporting me! I'm trying to gain more confidence in my writing ability, so, don't kill me off just yet! ^_^  
  
Oh, and one more thing: I owe a HUGE thanks to my awesome, great, much-appreciated and loved, beta reader! She is totally my inspiration on this! If it wasn't for her, I would never catch any of the mistakes I make, which are many, or ever have the courage to write the remainder of this story (which is eight chapters and counting). ^_^ So, if any of you wish to read one of the coolest, most well-written fics with Original Characters (*screams* Hatori is MINE! -_- I wish!) then check out War of Hearts! It is SO great, and being the privileged beta reader of her fic (:P), I am here to say that it's going to get even better. Oh, the drama and sweetness of things yet to come!  
  
Enough with the shameless advertising. Hurry! Hurry! Check out Pato San's ficcy and review, review, review! 


	4. Dying Friendship

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing.  
  
Warnings: fluff-slash-sap, weird pairings (please..don't kill me -_-), lime-y content, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and a bunch of other stuff I've probably forgotten to mention.  
  
Author's Note: Well, my speeches are usually kept for the end, where it still will be, but there are a few things I have to say before you read. Sorry if any of this chapter that's posted is weird in format...my computer is garbage! Oh, and um...Hiro and Shu-chan kinda get...kinky. I guess that's the only way I can explain it. O.o I'm not totally sure where this came from, but it does have a point to the story later on, and no worries to those diehard Yuki/Shu fans! I won't do anything drastic. It's angst- y, and angst-y equals fun...for me. One more thing: Smashing Blue isn't really a "new" song, as everyone will find out when reading, but I just thought having them do something a little bit different would be fun. Oh, and who knew Hiro could sing? I knew he had it in him all along!! ^_^ Ah, why am I rambling? Read and enjoy!  
  
This chapter is dedicated to all those Hiro/Shuichi lovers out there, with a strange twist to boot.  
  
Track Four: Dying Friendship   
  
Bright lavender-indigo eyes peered at the audience from behind the partially parted curtain, and Shuichi jerked back, frantically jumping up and down, a distressed expression controlling his countenance. Hiro calmly walked up to him and looked at the cheering fans before glancing back at his friend. Whatever Eiri had done to motivate him the day before had obviously worked, and Hiro temporarily felt the same envy attempting to dominate him, but he pushed it aside, examining the energetic youth. His ensemble was that of what a girl would wear extra small tank top that barely covered his chest, painted-on shorts that clung to his finely shaped calves, leaving his arms naked- but it fit his personality on stage perfectly. Everything matched well except for the strange choker he always insisted on wearing saying that it caressed his vocal cords to make his voice smoother. Hiro would have preferred staring at his neck. It was enticing in its own way.  
  
"There's too many people," Shuichi exclaimed, impatiently leaping from one foot to the other. "HIRO.what am I going to do?" Hiro, clad in habitual black pants that clung to his hips and a blue shirt open halfway down his chest, walked over to his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders.  
  
"It's the same amount of people as before. Stop worrying! You'll be fine."  
  
"B-but it's bigger and all the tickets were sold out and that means a lot more people...who will hate me for not singing the right songs and-"  
  
"Shuichi! Enough! Everything will be fine! Even if they do hate you, which I don't see as a likely possibility, you'll still have all those that care for you here. Besides, it's our concert.we can do what we want!" Shuichi's eyes got watery, and he sprang to hug him.  
  
"Arigato, Hiro...you're always right," he mumbled, sliding down the guitar player's body to put his feet back on the ground, and when he looked up, he found he was only a few inches from Hiro's mouth. Shuichi could suddenly feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest, and habitually, he began to close the distance between them even as Hiro tilted his head down.  
  
"I know," he murmured, electricity flowing through him. "I know-" He couldn't control his actions, Hiro was no longer commanding his own body, and he was so close to Shuichi's lips that he could already taste the infamous strawberry lip gloss just by smelling it. Hiro swept his tongue experimentally over the bottom of the singer's mouth, and Shuichi shuddered before closing his eyes and surrendering completely, opening the barrier further to allow Hiro entrance. The moment their tongues intertwined, all alliances and truths forgotten, Hiro felt a tremor of shock flow over him, and he knew Shuichi sensed the attraction as well because he tightened his arms around his neck, lifting himself up to match the taller youth's height.  
  
Hiro's hands were running smoothly up his back, fingers fumbling with the clasps of the leather hiding his throat as he ravenously kissed him, and Shuichi already had one leg wrapped around his upper thighs to further open himself to his dominating partner. He ground their slim hips together once, and Hiro immediately forgot about trying to remove the choker easily and ripped it using his teeth and hands, though reluctant to stop touching him with his lips. He roughly ravished the exposed flesh of his neck a second later, and Shuichi stiffened in his arms, arching towards him for further contact even as he slid fingers over the edge of Hiro's pants and wiggled them beneath it, trying to get inside.  
  
They had lost all reason, their logic completely erased by burning lust, and at that moment, nothing existed for them but each other. There wasn't jealousy to cause hate nor was there another lover that created anguish, but when a moan of longing echoed into his ears, almost drowning out the cry of the crowd, Hiro remembered where he was. He pulled away, his face flushing with heat as he stared at Shuichi and tried to get his breathing under control. There was a darkening mark imprinted on his skin, and the singer's lips were swollen from the excessive force of his teeth. Hiro could still feel the presence of Shuichi's hand halfway down his pants, and he instantly felt ashamed.  
  
"Hiro...w-why did you stop?" Shuichi lifted his face up for another kiss, but he pushed him back, tugging his fingers free.  
  
"Iie...Shuichi...this is wrong. We...we can't...and the concert-" Shuichi's eyes flew open, and he grabbed at the material Hiro offered, snapping it around his throat, concealing the spot he'd made.  
  
"I-I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, preparing to run to find their third member, but Hiro stopped him.  
  
"We have to talk about this, Shuichi. We almost-" He refused to finish the sentence he started, and something warm touched his face, making him look up.  
  
"After the concert. We'll fix it, Hiro! Don't worry...now, come on! We've got to find-"  
  
"There's no need, Shindou-san. I'm prepared," Suguru proclaimed, walking up to them, promptly followed by a panicking Sakano and a coolly smirking K, whose arms were crossed.  
  
"Alright!" he cried excitedly, grabbing his friends' hands before flashing an outstretched smile at their producer and manager. Shuichi dragged them out onto the stage, lights blinding them and the panoramic scream of thousands of fan girls (and boys) deafening the band as they made their way to specific areas Suguru to his double-keyboarded synthesizers, Hiro to his precious guitar, which he delicately placed over his neck, and Shuichi to the microphone. The pink-haired youth grabbed the device in his hand, easily lifting it back towards his mouth as he raised his arm, sending the audience into an uproar. "We are Bad Luck!! We've come to give you the best show yet! And, now, we sing!" There was an almost dead silence of sorts as Shuichi glanced at the other members and nodded, signaling them to strike a chord, and they began with one familiar and uplifting-  
  
_BLIND GAME AGAIN kanari KIRE teru DOLL  
Itsumademo kowaranai yoru o buchi kowase_

_  
Zawameku kaze ni meguru LAITO ga  
Oto wo tatete kioku to hazu kitto shiranu hazu mo nai yuuwaku  
Kokoro wo midasu kimi no BESSU ja nanimo nokosezu yoru ga akeru  
Mada mienu shuuchaku wa genkaku  
  
DON'T LET ME DOWN itsumo kobiteru dake  
CRY FOR THE SUN nanimo mieyashinai  
Jibun no naka de dare ga sakebu?_

_  
BLIND GAME AGAIN kanari KIME teru DOLL  
Todokanai yume naraisso nugi sutero  
DRASTIC GAME A GAME kanari KIRE teru DOLL  
Itsumade mo kawaranai yoru o buchi kowase  
  
Nagareru namida habikoru uso ni jibun o somete yume o nogasu  
Sora nimau hai rio no jounetsu  
  
DON'T LET ME DOWN kitto kitzuke kyashinai  
CRY FOR THE SUN kimi to koware taize  
Subete o moyasu toki o tomero  
  
_

_BLIND GAME AGAIN shiketa hitmoi no DOLL  
Imi mo naku namida nagashita yoru ga akeru _

_DRASTIC GAME A GAME tameiki dake no DOLL  
Doko made mo kawaranai yoru o buchi kowase  
  
BLIND GAME AGAIN kanari KIME teru DOLL  
Todokanai yume naraisso nugi sutero  
DRASTIC GAME A GAME kanari KIRE teru DOLL  
Itsumade mo kawaranai yoru o buchi kowase  
  
(BLIND GAME AGAIN)  
(DRASTIC GAME A GAME)  
(BLIND GAME AGAIN)  
  
_"Drastic game a game," Shuichi crooned softly, bowing his head at the end of the music while lifting his hands into the air, the microphone wobbling without his steady hold. A swarm of bodies surged forward, trying to climb over the barrier of the restraining obstacles and platform to reach him, and Shuichi stepped back as Hiro moved towards him, a discussion already taking place.  
  
"What next?" Hiro asked, imperceptibly wiping a tickle of sweat from Shuichi's cheek. He was panting a little, but he looked as though he could last forever; he was so excited.  
  
"The new one," Shuichi replied, tugging on his hand to drag the guitarist with him. "We've got to do the new one!"  
  
"Demo...it isn't finished yet," he hissed, using his hand as a visor to block out the blinding light. "We haven't even practiced-"  
  
"It'll be fun! Come on, Hiro!!" he pleaded, glancing at Suguru momentarily who was giving him a curious look- before staring at Hiro with large, pleading eyes. "Onegai? Onegai, Hiro-kun?" Sighing, knowing that he had lost the battle, Hiro tossed a glimpse towards their synthesizer.  
  
"The newer one," he mouthed decadently while adjusting the length of the strap slung around his neck. "You owe me!" Shuichi grinned up at him and grabbed the microphone.  
  
"We've decided to surprise you," he called out, earning a round of cheers from the audience. "My best friend Hiro is going to sing with me!!" The sound immediately died away, the ricocheting sound of crickets chirping filling the stadium, and Hiro shook his head sadly, giving Suguru the signal to start. The keyboard music was slow, imitating that of a soft drum and symbols, and Hiro wrapped his fingers over Shuichi's, pulling both the mic and the youth towards him.  
  
"Oh.smashing blue.oh..." He paused momentarily, staring at his friend for encouragement, and Shuichi smiled. "Oh...smashing blue...oh..." The pink-haired vocalist leaned in closer.  
  
_Kawaita tsumori am ga tsuzunaku katari kakeru  
(Namida wa seijaku ni samayou yoru ga akeru)  
_  
The music faded into a deeper rhythm, Hiro's guitar playing mixing with the synthesizer, and Shuichi closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact words. Hiro had been right, like he always was.  
  
They hadn't practiced enough.  
  
_KARADA o tsutau ame ni furueru awai omoi _

_(guren no yuuwaku ni samayou yoru ga akeru)  
_  
Hiro and Shuichi lifted their voices together, blending them perfectly to sound as one.  
  
_Mabushii kiseki o irodoru SMASHING BLUE  
Hajimaru MAKE ME TRUE kieyuku tsuki wa SILENT  
Kimi no koe iranai SMASHING BLUE  
Suhada ni nokoru kiramekimaru de TWILIGHT  
  
OH! OH! SMASHING BLUE OH! OH!  
OH! OH! SMASHING BLUE OH! OH!  
_  
The audience was in motion now, screaming frantically as if Hiro hadn't been there and had suddenly appeared from thin air, and Shuichi rubbed his hand tenderly across his friend's cheek, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips before continuing to sing. Hiro, with the combination of euphoria and emotion welling up, felt faint.  
  
_GLASS no shareta uso ni nanika hoshigaru MY HEART  
Shien no sono yubi de wazukani sasoi kakeru_

_  
Towa ni hirogaru sekai wo SMASHING BLUE  
Kioku no MAKE ME TRUE usureru kimi wa SILENT  
Koware souna SPEED SMASHING BLUE  
Subete o kakete kake agaru toki wa TWILIGHT  
  
OH! OH! SMASHING BLUE OH! OH!  
OH! OH! SMASHING BLUE OH! OH!  
_  
During the instrumental break, where Suguru and Hiro matched the tempo of the beat with a faster rhythm, the guitarist noticed a strange disturbance in the crowd, near the front of the center row. Shuichi took the microphone, unaware of the yet-to-be explained problem.  
  
_DRAMA shitate no FAKE IT MOON  
Kodoku o seou STORY TALE  
Sameta hitomi de MAKE IT-  
_  
There was a sharp scream and a rapid click, something that sounded vaguely like a ripple of thunder spilling onto the earth, and Hiro used the leverage of his shoulder to shove Shuichi down, his mind going blank as unexpected pain shot through his chest. He couldn't breathe and everything was beginning to blur.  
  
Shuichi blinked at the sudden impact, shaking his head to clear his vision, and a gasp worked its way into his throat as he stared down at the floor. Everything was red Hiro was red, the light was red, the black paint of the stage was red- and the vocalist cried out in terror upon watching his best friend lift his hand up to stare at the dark crimson liquid dribbling down his fingertips before slumping lifeless to the ground. He crawled blindly to him, unaware that the audience was swarming for the exits, and when he reached his side, he was too scared to touch him.  
  
"Oh, kami-sama.oh, kami-sama," he whispered in a cracking voice, the blood for that was what it was- welling over Hiro's clothes, staining his blue shirt violet and streaming over the splintered guitar neck. "Hiro...Hiro...oh, kami-sama.what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? What?! What?!" Shuichi was mumbling incoherently, afraid to see the faded look in his companion's usually teasing cobalt-colored eyes, and he could feel the tears running helplessly down his face.  
  
"Shu.Shuichi...urasai..." Hiro spoke weakly, his entire visage relaxed as if he was floating in a celestial pool of peace. "U-urasai..."  
  
"HIRO! What am I supposed to do?! What-" He felt a presence beside him and looked to find Ryuichi kneeling down next to him, his countenance somber, with Suguru and K right behind him, the tall blonde-haired American sporting his sniper rifle as he glanced around cautiously. Sakano, meanwhile, had passed out backstage.  
  
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," Ryuichi promised quietly, his usually wide eyes narrowed considerably. "Daijoubu-ka.." Shuichi bit his lip deeply as a fresh wave of crying overtook him.  
  
"Sakuma-san-" The lithe singer flung himself into the older man's arms, clinging tightly and sobbing unabashedly, and Ryuichi hugged him back, gazing out over his shoulder to watch a shadowed figure disappear, the glint of a gun evident, as the sound of sirens flooded the arena.  
  
TBC-  
  
A/N: Am I dead yet? Do you want to bury me and pretend I never existed? I admit, it was strange, but I will promise one thing that will put all your hearts at ease: my dear, beloved Hiro does NOT die! He's too key to the plot of the story to kick the bucket. Plus, I don't want evil flames sentencing me to a lifetime of servitude in Hell for murdering a much-liked character, although everyone can still do that if they want to. It sounds enticing, but I'd rather pass the offer. O.o Anyway, the definite weird pairing I have repeatedly warned about is coming up in the next chapter, and I bet no one can guess what it's going to be. Hehe, kudos to those that can. :p  
  
Anyway, responses:  
  
Joan Mistress of Magic: You hit the nail on the head! I AM a baka! How nice of you to notice! Hehe.you wanna know what Yuki is gonna do to Aizawa?? Just wait and read. Just wait and read. ^_^  
  
Punky girl: *bows* Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. Eh..please, put the brass knuckles away. My body is already broken from the infinite Kumagoro beams pummeling my poor, defenseless self. O.O  
  
Princess of Mirrors: A soft side to Yuki that not even Tatsuha's ever seen before? *thinks* You may be right, but I do love the relationship they have in the manga. So kawaii!! Oh, and more Tatsuha/Ryuichi? You're a big fan of the pairing, ne? Well, I can promise some things, but you have to live through all the weirdness first. Hope it doesn't scare you away! And, sorry about the undistinguishable flashback thing...stupid computer. It's junk! ^_~  
  
Black Dios: OMG! Red Moon! Put that flamethrower away or...or no more updates! :p Tehe, I can be evil! Don't be hurting Dios! Need as many reviewers who are willing to read this as possible. -_-  
  
StarryEyedChick: *gasp* I'm glad you like odd pairings. Let me tell you, the one that is revolving around the existence of this fic, somewhat, is quite BIZARRE. I don't even know where it came from. O.o I hope it lives up to your odd pairings expectations. Oh, and what about the Hiro/Shu stuff? Nice, yes? Can someone say lemon later on? LOL.  
  
BrokenAngelYue: You? A fanfiction sadist? *glomp* COOL! I love sadistic people because I'm one, too. ^_^ Oh, and don't worry. You're about to find a whole lotta Ryuichi in the next few chapters, maybe the rest of the fic. He has issues, and I want to address them. *huggles Ryuichi* He's so SWEET!  
  
ShadowWarriorJessica: Glad there aren't anymore Kumagoro beams chasing me, LOL. Oh, and Shuichi...well, things are just getting worse for him, aren't they? I can be so cruel to those that I like .  
  
Mirai Aria: O.O Oh.my...gawd! You...actually read my fic?! *gasp* And.said it didn't put yours to shame?? You flatter me TOO much. That's not true! Yours is an excellent work of writing. So awesome. *heart eyes* Anyway, no, you aren't weird, because I think, for some perverse reason, that Hiro does have 'those' feelings for Shuichi; he just doesn't want to admit it for fear of losing his friendship, something I believe he values very highly. Oh, and Tachi? Gotta love the evil bastard! He's one of my favorites. Besides, how can I be mean to him, anyway? He's a little messed up, I admit, but who isn't? And, who says he doesn't have a plan? Er, well, to be honest, it isn't a plan...he just loses his mind. I'm so mean. LOL. Thanks for reviewing! You're so awesome! (And, there's no way I'm even in the slightest better than you!)  
  
Anna Sartin: *glomp* Don't fall off your seat trying to jump into the story! That wouldn't be good! Then, how could you review? ^O^ Hehe, here's your peace, but it's probably not very restful, is it? I'm sorry. Stay tuned for more!  
  
Anyone else that reviewed after I updated: Thanks so much! Everyone is just so great!!  
  
Oh, and last but certainly not least, a BIG thanks goes out to my beloved beta reader, Pato San, who has sweet talked her way into my heart as a great friend and wonderful person! :p *builds shrine to Pato San* Now, I command all of you to worship her story, War of Hearts, and if you don't...may all the Gravitation Gods (and Goddesses) strike your ungrateful bodies with Kumagoro beams. And, yes, they do hurt. O.o  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! 


	5. Playing With Blood

Disclaimer: Me no own.  Just borrowing.

Warnings: fluff-slash-sap, weird pairings (please..don't kill me -_-), lime-y content, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and a bunch of other stuff I've probably forgotten to mention.  
  


Author's Note: *sigh* Well, not too much to say here.  I will ramble at the end.  Hence forth, the weird pairing is showing itself.  Hope everyone can handle it.  R&R!!

This chapter is dedicated to all of those that love weird pairings!  Especially if you like this one!  :P

Track Five: Playing With Blood

       _His breathing was erratic as he ran, eyes shut and a cry threatening to tear itself from his throat.  He could not see in the dark, but the one he wanted to reach was like a beacon, drawing him forward past the anguish and pain though it haunted his every waking hour.  He had no one else to turn to, his band members had abandoned him after the terrible thing he had done to a rival who was stealing everything he'd worked his entire life to have.  Now, only the man who walked in a world of his own could help him, the one who would never turn him away despite his weaknesses.  His trembling fingers smashed in the doorbell even as the remainder of his body tripped up the steps, and although he wasn't the praying type, he pleaded with all the gods he knew for him to be there.  The house slowly creaked open, bed-mussed brown hair peeking out from within, and eyes glittering with happiness immediately altered into surprise._

_       "A-Ai-chan?" he asked, blinking in confusion as the door fell open completely, and Sakuma Ryuichi caught the other as he tumbled down onto his knees, concern washing over his face._

_       "R-Ryu-chan..I..I..oh, kami-sama.." He was afraid to find himself weeping in his lover's arms, but he was and Ryuichi just held him, not asking any questions although they were embracing tightly on his porch, in plain view of anyone who wished to see.  "Ryu-chan.."_

_       "What is it, Ai-chan?  What's wrong?  Did something happen-"_

_       "Seguchi Tohma..he-he tried to..he tried.." The words stuck in his throat, and Aizawa buried his nose against the warm skin of Ryuichi's neck, refusing to relive the experience of almost meeting his death.  The sound of a car screeching to a sudden halt would forever haunt him._

_       "Nandai o?  Ai-chan, what are you talking about?  Tohma wouldn't do anything-"_

_       "It's all my fault, Ryuichi!  It's all my fault..if I hadn't been jealous of Shindou-san and..oh, kami-sama!  I screwed up, and my life is over!" The smaller singer gathered Aizawa closer to him, cradling his head against his chest as though he could absorb the pain into himself._

_       "Never believe that, Aizawa.  It's not over until there is nothing left for you to do, and that isn't an option.  Whatever Tohma did, I'm sure it was for a good reason-" Aizawa lurched away from Ryuichi, a scowl on his lips and his eyes redder that usual from crying._

_       "He pushed me in front of a damn car, Ryuichi!  Is that a good reason to you?!" The other singer gaped at him for a moment, unbelieving that his friend as well as partner for Nittle Grasper would do something so unethical, and he pursed his mouth before tilting Aizawa's face to look at him._

_       "I would never, never hurt you, Ai-chan..you're too important to me..I'll talk to Tohma and ask him why-"_

_       "You already know why, Ryuichi!  That damn writer..do you know what Seguchi-san told me?  He said-" Aizawa was promptly but off by a pair of avid lips questing for silence, and the vocalist for ASK melted willingly into the thin arms holding him voluntarily prisoner as he sighed into the contact.  This was the only secret Ryuichi refused to share with anyone else; he and Aizawa had found solace within each other and no one could understand them better.  This was his own personal joy, having Aizawa –headstrong, brash, and always defiant- liquefying in his grasp, and the dark-haired soloist always made the most delightful sounds with his exquisite, bass voice.  Their meeting had been a complete accident, they had known each other less than a month, but Ryuichi confided everything to him, realizing that Aizawa might have been his soul mate in a world free from sin and full of love._

_       "Does it matter, Ai-chan?  Can you honestly say that it does?" he asked after pulling away, his senses filled with the touch, taste, and feel of Tachi Aizawa, the 'untouchable' of *The Untouchable*.  Crimson red eyes stared into his soul, making him shiver, and Aizawa smiled, though it was sad and filled with grief._

_       "I won't have a career anymore, Ryuichi..my reputation no longer exists to anyone."_

       "Demo..Demo..it does to me, Aizawa..it always has..can't we talk this out?  I..I don't want you to leave or..it'll be like it was without you, and I can't stand being alone-" Aizawa pressed a tender kiss to his lips to silence him.

_       "Urasai," he murmured softly, touching his forehead to Ryuichi's.  "You won't be alone..there are too many people in love with you.  You're the great Sakuma Ryuichi." Tears were welling up within those azure depths, and the petite man chewed on his lip._

_       "I don't want to be if it means I'll lose you..Ai-chan, you're the only thing that's mine." It was ironic to hear him say that particular phrase, after all, Ryuichi had everything he desired and more, but none of it truly belonged to him –because he didn't want it- and he couldn't afford to risk the one object he cherished more than anything._

_       "Is that true?" Aizawa asked, already knowing the answer, and he reached around Ryuichi, pushing him closer with a hand on the small of his back._

_       "Hai..every word."_

_       "Hounto ni?" They were only millimeters apart now and Ryuichi was unintentionally shivering, his clothes unsuitable for the cool night air; he was only clad in a pair of loose shorts too large for his slim hips and a shirt with a ripped midriff and no sleeves.  He nodded his head numbly, surrendering more quickly to the other's advances, and they were frantically clawing at each other, their fear evaporating beneath desire.  Aizawa reclined with Ryuichi squirming excitedly under him, a lean body arching up to touch the firm muscles beneath the jacket and red shirt of his partner, and hot mouths met in a rage of heat, sending sparks through their vision.  Ryuichi threw his head back, hitting it softly against the hard wood of the hallway and cried out when Aizawa slipped his hand below the fragmented clothing he called a shirt to skim it over his flawless chest even as he nipped his way along his jaw.  The smallest contact always set his senses aflame, and despite Aizawa being younger than him by almost nine years, he dominated him, loving the feel of control, and Ryuichi loved surrendering._

_       "M-matte, Aizawa..we're..the door..people can see," he gasped, slender fingers clutching at the younger man's back._

_       "Let them see," he replied in a ghostly whisper, blowing his hot breath over Ryuichi's ear.  "I want them to know I'm the only one that's ever had Sakuma Ryuichi like this." And, it was true although Aizawa hadn't been his first; he was a pop star, a god in the eyes of many, and it had been expected of him almost like a written law, but he had never wanted it..until he'd met Tachi Aizawa, lead singer of the newest band sensation ASK.  Ryuichi meshed against his lover, moaning to the sky and the shadowed ceiling as Aizawa slipped lower, the apartment door swinging slowly back and forth._

*     *     *

       Shuichi sat numbly in the hospital waiting room chair, teeth nervously chewing through the wooden pocky stick since he was unaware that the thin cookie was no longer there.  Blue eyes filled with unshed tears looked up repeatedly every few seconds, searching for any signs of a doctor to tell them of Hiro's condition, and Shuichi found himself jumping at any small sound.  Suguru was patiently sitting across from him with a serious expression on his face, and K remained motionless as he stood leaning against the wall beside Bad Luck's keyboardist, arms crossed and features stoic.  Sakano was pacing back and forth across the floor, wearing a gouge into the linoleum.  

The only one who seemed as lost as the pink-haired singer was Ryuichi, who sat on the floor with his legs stretched out and his hand holding a bandage securely to the bend in his left arm.  When each of them had been asked to donate blood in case Hiro needed it, Shuichi had instantly jumped at the question, begging for the nurses to jab as many needles into him –though he hated any sharp objects- necessary to save his best friend.  Ryuichi, however, had been the only positive match, and he'd shoved his bare arm out as if performing some great duty, fearlessness shining in his narrowed eyes.  Afterward, Shuichi had curled into a ball on a chair and cried into his knees until the Nittle Grasper God had returned, offering him some pocky he had somehow procured, and they'd shared it though Ryuichi liked chocolate more than strawberry. 

The younger vocalist bit his lip in thought before slipping to the floor and moving towards Ryuichi, sitting erect on his legs until he was noticed, and he promptly curled against him for comfort, being welcome without a word as Ryuichi slid his arm around Shuichi's shaking shoulders.  The boy realized that a few years ago this would have been a distant and unreachable dream –to meet and actually touch Sakuma Ryuichi- but now that he knew him, Shuichi was glad to know Ryuichi was just a person like him with weaknesses just like everyone else.  Fair pink mingled with muddy green as Shuichi laid his head against the other's shoulder, and Ryuichi had the sudden urge to cheer him up, disliking it when anyone around him was sad, though he was suffering from a grief beyond normality.  He withdrew his favorite gold glittery crayon and sat up –no longer using the front of a chair for support- absently drawing on a magazine crumpled on the carpet beside him.  Shuichi was still holding onto him, though he was watching, and Ryuichi dismissed it, his heart breaking.  He liked the Bad Luck singer –Shuichi reminded him so much of himself when he'd been younger- but was all the pain he'd suffered worth the friendship?

He didn't know.

'Childish thoughts,' he cursed to himself, scribbling in the hair of the person he was drawing, making them shine with bright speckles of yellow.  He was no visual artist, but in his mind's eye it looked exactly like.. 'Stop thinking these stupid things, Ryuichi.  It's not worth it-' He tried concentrating on something else, and for the briefest second, he thought of his new friend, Uesugi Tatsuha.  He really enjoyed Tatsuha's company despite the youth's uncontrolled awe of being around him, but it would be for both their benefit if they never met again.  Every time he looked at him, Ryuichi was instantly reminded of someone he missed more than words could explain.  He shook his head and scribbled harder, digging the crayon into the glossy paper.  'Tatsuha isn't Aizawa..Tatsuha will never be..Aizawa..Ai-chan..' He blinked, feeling the tears surface, and even though he knew it was un-Ryuichi-like, he couldn't help it as he remembered making the worst mistake of his life.

Their breathing was slowed and they had somehow managed to move partially into the apartment where prying eyes could not see them.  Ryuichi lay snuggled up to the taller man's body, sighing contentedly though his soul was slowly dissolving into non-existent pieces.  Aizawa had his arm wrapped around the petite vocalist's bare back, softly stroking the moist skin, and he stared at him for a moment before speaking, breaking the unbearable silence.

_"I can't stay here anymore, Ryu-chan," he murmured, nuzzling his nose against Ryuichi's cheek.  "They'll hunt me down, and.." Aizawa trailed off, not wishing to finish what he had been thinking.  There would be prison, public humiliation, and the destruction of ASK, but most of all, he would be placing Ryuichi in a dangerous as well as vulnerable position.  Ryuichi, half-giggling in secluded bliss, reached up and placed a wet kiss at the end of Aizawa's nose before smiling brightly at him._

_"You can stay here with Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san!  We'll hide you and keep you safe!" he whispered enthusiastically, mysteriously pulling the small bunny from the dark surrounding them.  Aizawa couldn't resist the grin that fell upon his face and sighed; he'd forgotten how playful Ryuichi could get after making love._

_"I can't hide, Ryu-chan..especially not here.  I have to go away." The legendary singer looked at him with huge eyes._

_"Demo..Kumagoro-san would miss you, and Ryuichi wouldn't know how to fix him..Kumagoro-san loves Ai-chan." Aizawa's lips trembled when he heard the words, and he gently tugged the stuffed animal from his lover's grasp to stare at its eternally red-stitched smile, pink nose, and beady coal eyes._

_"Aizawa loves Kumagoro-san, too," he spoke, feeling slightly foolish for talking to a toy, but he turned his head to look directly at Ryuichi, resting the bunny between them.  "Demo..do you think Kumagoro-san would be jealous if I said that I loved Ryuichi more?" Despite the black shadows, Aizawa knew the other was blushing, and Ryuichi lifted Kumagoro-san up to examine him._

_"Iie.  Kumagoro-san isn't jealous..he's happy and..so am I..Aizawa." Ryuichi moved against him, capturing his lips with his own in a thrilled kiss, and they clung to each other after it ended, Ryuichi's face pressed to Aizawa's naked chest._

_"I'm glad," the dark haired vocalist murmured, squeezing Ryuichi tightly to him.  "But I really can't stay here, Ryuichi.  They would come looking for you, and I don't want you in the middle of my problem." There was a dreading silence, and at first, Aizawa thought his beloved paramour had fallen asleep –for one with so much energy, he tired easily- but Ryuichi lifted his head, relieving Aizawa of his initial idea._

_"Then..we won't have to be in the middle of anything!  We'll go away..together.." There was hopefulness in his voice, but Aizawa couldn't believe it even if he wanted to; no matter how much he argued, Ryuichi belonged in Japan with the crowd that loved him, not with a fugitive in seclusion._

_"Iie..Ryuichi..you belong here..not with me."_

_"Demo..I want to be with you!  Nothing else matters to me, Aizawa.  I-I still have a place in America..we can go there!  No one would ever think of looking-" Aizawa placed a finger to his lips and shook his head._

_"Iie!  That's final, Ryuichi.  I'm not going to force you to give all this up!  You're Sakuma Ryuichi!"_

_"I'd give it all up for you.." There were tears streaking his cheeks and splashing onto Aizawa's skin.  He tried to withhold a sob.  "Why don't you want to be with me?  Is it..is it because.." The singer clung to his younger lover, crying uncontrollably, and Aizawa caressed his back._

_"Iie..it's not you, Ryuichi.  You're more important to me than anything have ever known, but I will not take you from all that you are-"_

_"YOU'RE ALL THAT I AM!" he shouted, glistening drops shimmering in the shadows as he stared down at him.  "Why can't you understand that, Aizawa?!  I know people see me as a god and sometimes as a child, but..but I'm  a real person, too.  I have needs, too, and I need you..let's runaway together..let me be with you..onegai?" Aizawa felt his heart breaking into pieces, and he reached up, wiping at his liquefied grief._

_"It's not a matter of asking.  I would give my life to stay here with you, but I can't.  If you are so insistent on leaving, then let me go alone, Ryuichi.  Send me to America, and I'll wait for you until all of this is forgotten and we can be together again..don't make this harder than it already is.."_

'But I did, Aizawa..I made it so much harder than it ever had to be,' he thought, blinking down at the blurring picture as a single drop slid over the golden wax.  'And..I failed you..you slipped away and now..kami-sama, why did you ever have to love me?'

TBC-

A/N: Eh, well, so I'm pretty much a goner, now, aren't I?  LOL.  Um..not too much to say this time.  Only, Tatsuha and Ryuichi fans will have their appeasement later on.  I can't make promises, but there will be more twists and turns later on down the road.  Please, be kind.  

Response to reviews:

CJ-Chan: Yeah, poor Hiro.  I feel so sorry for him.  And, I love him almost more than anyone, too.  *pout* 

StarryEyedChick: *sweatdrop* Well, I'm glad that you didn't commence with the servitude in hell threat.  I'm very relieved.  Hmm..yes, a little bit of Hiro/Shu action never hurt anyone, and what can I say?  I have a soft spot for them.  LOL.  Nope, it wasn't Hiro and Yuki..but I do have plans *evil smirk* Oh, and my Japanese, in short, SUCKS!  Thanks for noticing!  :P

Joan Mistress of Magic:  Yes!  I'm a baka!  I'm so glad you have that done, nearly, to an art!  Uh, well, this chapter didn't really help much and say that he was okay, did it?  LOL.  Don't worry!  The next chapter will put everyone's panicking souls to rest!  I hope..

CassiToTheStars: Shu should stay loyal?  I agree, but where would the fun in that be?  LOL.  I'm a sadist, if it hasn't become obvious yet, and I'm a glutton for punishment.  ^_^ If you have fears that Shu and Yuki are going to be on bad terms, please, put them aside!  They will be far from that, but I'm not sure what.  Please stick with me!!

Mirai Aria: *sigh* Again, you flatter me!  I'm glad you like the way I use my words.  It's the only thing I can probably use well.  Every time I speak, stupid seems to fall out.  O.o LOL.  Anyway, how was this chapter?  Like it?  Hate it?  Wish it never existed?  Anyway, no, Hiro wasn't injured badly.  I can't kill him.  He was shot near his heart, trying to save Shu-chan, but it missed.  At least, that's how I wrote it.  I could change it if you'd like.  *goes to change scene* *is tied up by Aria and thrown in dark closet for torture* O.o Okay, I'll take it that you want me to keep it as is.  Can do.  You can imagine Hiro singing?  What a coincidence..so can I!  :P

Black Dios: Just make sure Red Moon is no where near my fic with her flame thrower or other painful weapons of mass destruction.  O.o You mean..you both actually liked it?!!  Wow.  That's a surprise.  I'm sure Red Moon wanted to burn everything I'd written.  Well, hope this doesn't deserved to be torched.  *grimaces*

Lara: You..you growled at me?  That's a definite first for me!  LOL.  No, Hiro doesn't die!  TRUST ME!

Punky girl: So, if Hiro's not your favorite character, then who is?  Just curious is all.  Um..Hiro doesn't die or even come close to death.  He just got hurt badly!  O.o I guess I won't have to worry about getting struck by lightning, then.  *does Shuichi dance* Yatta!

Princess of Mirrors: I'm sorry if I was unclear. I tried to write it from a panicking-Shuichi point of view.  He got shot.  O.o Weird, I know.  *sigh* Hope you like this chapter.  *crosses fingers*

Aku Aiko: *glomp* You're my best friend!  Of course I know you.  O.o Well, I will be sure to let you know if any body threatens to hurt me because of the 'weird pairing.' Yes, post MH for everyone to read!  They will love it!  

Nae-chan: Thanks for reviewing.  You can do anything you set your mind to!  Don't forget, ne?!  

Oh, and one last HUGE thanks goes out to my beloved, much-appreciated, totally-inspiring, caring, and too flattering beta reader, Pato San!  :P  She's the best, and I wouldn't have had the courage to post this chapter if it wasn't for her.  *gulp* Afraid too many people might kill me..  

If you haven't read her on-going fic so perfectly titled War of Hearts, then I suggest you do or I will do evil things that are too profane to mention here.  Okay, maybe not that bad, but definitely close.  *wink*  I built a shrine, people must worship!  If you do not, bad things will happen, and I won't be held accountable.  Okay, enough blabbing! 

REVIEW!  REVIEW!  


	6. Grasping The Truth

Disclaimer: Me no own.  Just borrowing.

Warnings:  uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.

Author's Note: *cries* I am _SO_sorry that I haven't updated in almost two weeks.  O.o   What type of writer am I to keep all of my readers in suspense?  You don't know if Hiro is dead (which I assure you, he is not, but people won't believe me) or why in hell I chose Ryuichi and Aizawa as a pairing.  *sigh*  Aside from all of that ramble, which, as everyone knows, I will do at the bottom, I hope track six is intriguing enough to bring everyone back for more.  Again, I apologize for not updating sooner, and enjoy the sixth chapter!!  ^_^

Track Six: Grasping the Truth

"Sakuma-san?" The tiny voice broke Ryuichi's thoughts, and he turned toward the sound, solemn and remorseful lavender-indigo eyes staring up at him.  "Are you crying?" The singer instantly shook his head.

"Iie…Ryuichi is sleepy," he replied with an exhausted tone, trying to convince his younger companion to leave him alone; all he had wanted was to be unbothered by everything, but life was as unfair to him as it was to everyone else.

"Oh…alright," Shuichi answered, once again lying his head on his shoulder with an exasperated sigh, and Ryuichi whispered a silent prayer of relief.  "Sakuma-san?"

"Hai?"

"Do you really believe that Hiro will be all right?" There was a soft sob.  "He…he tried to save me, and I did something...something t-terrible!" The lithe youth moaned into Ryuichi's shoulder, hiding at the memory of Hiro's avid hands and liquefying mouth upon his own, and he began to cry once again, making the other singer wonder if he ever stopped expressing so many emotions at once.  Not that he actually minded though.  He did the exact same thing more often.

"What is it that you did?" he asked seriously, unable to add on the habitual 'Na No Da.'

"I-"

"Is there a Shindou Shuichi anywhere in this room?" a young male doctor –or was it nurse?- asked them, interrupting Shuichi in his attempted explanation of his unfaithfulness to both his friendship and to Yuki.

"Hai!  Hai!  I'm Shindou Shuichi," he cried brazenly, instantly leaping up to run at the surprised man who held a clipboard in his still gloved hands.  "Is Hiro okay?  Is he?!"

"Nakano-san had successfully pulled through the surgery, and although we usually don't allow visitors in the recovery room, he insistently asked for a 'Shindou Shuichi' despite the medications he is currently on," he explained in one smooth breath, confusing the boy even further.  K, Suguru, and Sakano nodded understandingly, but Shuichi scratched his head.

"So…I…can see him?" The doctor gave him a brisk look.

"Only for as long as Nakano-san is conscious.  He needs to rest-" The singer was off in a flash, unable to listen anymore, having no idea where he was going, and he passed several rooms –some even twice- before he caught a glimpse of brilliant red mingling with white, instantly recognizing his best friend's body tucked carefully in the hospital bed.  Shuichi crept into the almost ethereal sanctuary, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, and he slid to stand beside Hiro's peaceful form, eyes frantically searching his companion's face for any signs of life.  He was pale, the usually tanned flesh vaguely resembling snow, and his crimson hair stood out among the plain coloring of the sheets and pillows.  Tears began to gather at the corners of his already burning eyes, and as Shuichi stared at him, he realized that he almost looked…dead.

"Hiro-" Orbs of hazed cobalt flickered open weakly to glance at him before the guitarist closed them and turned his head, moaning at the brightness in the place and the throbbing in his temples.

"Urasai," he murmured almost silently, bringing even more emotion flooding down his partner's saddened face.  "I already said that didn't I?" Shuichi let loose a terrible shriek of mixed pain and pleasure, leaping onto the bed to cling to the injured youth unable to defend himself.  Hiro grimaced as he hit the bandaged part of his body with his elbow, sending an entire vibration of pain directly to his brain.

"HIRO!  I'm so glad you're alive!" he shouted, oblivious to the increasing pressure in his companion's left side.  "It was all my fault!  All of it-"

"Don't be stupid," Hiro huffed out, almost unable to concentrate with the heavy –and skimpily clad- figure pressing against his wound and the drugs he'd been given to fight the agony.  "You didn't…have the gun.." Shuichi lifted up his head to stare at his friend's face, which was somehow inches from his own, and he thought his lips had started to burn.

"Demo...I wasn't paying attention to anything else.  I was singing that stupid song, and you…you got hurt because of it." He sniffed, nuzzling his nose against Hiro's neck in an attempt to hide the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, but the guitarist could feel them sliding onto his skin and the cushioning of the pillow.  He instantly overlooked the discomfort he had to focus entirely on the self-affliction building within Shuichi, his best friend and the one he loved more than anything else.  He gently lifted up a hand to stroke at the pink, strawberry-scented tendrils caressing his face and forgot what it was to be in pain.

"That stupid song means more to you than...everything," he began slowly, his breath harder to maintain.  "And…I just couldn't let you get yourself hurt...Shu-chan…" Shuichi leaned back enough to meet his gaze, still sniffling.  "You…are more important to me than...I am to myself." Hiro swallowed, knowing that when he faced himself without the shield of narcotics he was on that he would hate what he had become and what he had said.  "Before the concert...it was an…accident...make it right with _him_because…because he can make you so much more…happy than I ever could-" A finger to his lips stopped him from continuing.

"I don't care," Shuichi confessed, almost nervously.  "I don't care anymore, Hiro.  You're my best friend...we started Bad Luck and in high school...you saved me from being more stupid than necessary.  Can't you...can't you be happy, too?  Whatever it takes-"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" he asked softly, slightly drowsy by the warmth of Shuichi's body and fuzzy feeling washing over him, and he could feel himself slipping into an abyss of invisible dreams.

"Hai, all the time, but...I don't care." He whimpered it repeatedly like a mantra.  "I don't care." And, for the first time in his life, since he had known Shuichi, Hiro believed him.

*      *      *

Eiri stared menacingly at the small blinking cursor paused in the middle of a sentence, his thoughts running over what he had written.  It was all nonsense really, just a jumbled bunch of words, but the first impulse the author had had when he'd woken up –Shuichi's warmth and almost sickeningly sweet strawberry smell faded into the sheets- was to type everything down into his laptop computer for future reference, as though he would create a story out of it.  The twenty-two year old man had never, throughout his entire career, thought of using his life as the basis for a romance novel –nor would he think of advertising his lithe little lover to the people who already worshipped him in a more intimate manner- but the entire situation was contradicting and ultimately enticing.  He could imagine very explicitly what the reaction would be –a gay portrayal of love and heartbreak by the presumably bisexual Yuki Eiri- and he liked it, albeit the consequences would be more than he could handle.  It was already hard to face his past despite having remembered and conquered it, and revealing it specifically for public criticism was too much, too fast.  Taking one final look at the odd masterpiece beginning to form, Eiri highlighted it with a single touch to the pad and deleted it.

The writer rubbed a hand over his worn face, grimacing when he noticed he was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn the day before and slept in, and he decadently decided that he needed more coffee.  He realized that his impending lack of concentration had to deal with the fact that he no longer felt important to anyone; not that he had in the first place, but it was just a reprieve his mind tended to accept.  His brother had become as much a stranger to him as the next person –as well as his sister and her husband, though Tohma made the effort to piece together a somewhat hopeful relationship between them, which Eiri didn't want to argue against- and Shuichi was becoming increasingly dependent, as much as he hated to admit it.  The over-rambunctious singer had faded from persistently annoying and excessively happy to a somewhat moderately balanced person, or so he thought.  Eiri wasn't sure if the change had even taken place overnight or if he'd just gotten so used to it that it didn't bother him like it had before.

Such was hard to tell when it came to Shindou Shuichi.

Eiri sauntered into the spacious living room, unable to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the mess of clothes and miscellaneous objects scattered about in his lover's obvious attempt to clean up, and he walked into the kitchen, searching for a usable cup –preferably his usual white coffee mug- when the phone began to ring.  His lemon-lime eyes narrowed in towards a clock suspended lopsidedly on the plain walls and shook his head in surprise, unwilling to accept the time.  It was already past ten o'clock, and Shuichi hadn't returned from the pointless concert he'd had scheduled that night.

"Hold on a damn minute," he cursed to no one in particular, unable to allow the seeds of worry to grow within him; Shuichi was an adult and should have been mature enough to take care of himself.  The key words that made him edgy were _should have been_.  "What?!" His harsh voice spat into the receiver, completely agitated by the confusing emotions welling inside him, and he though he could hear a faint sound that was like someone falling over.

"You appear to be in a chipper mood, Aniki," Tatsuha's familiar low tenor answered, bringing another exasperated look to Eiri's usually stoic face.  "Turn on the TV." Eiri's eyebrow twitched slightly; his _younger_sibling was giving him commands?

"Doushite?!  What's so important about-" He hadn't realized that his hand had been reaching for the remote even as he spoke, and when the screen flickered on, he paused in brief shock, words unable to form themselves on his tongue.  Sirens were wailing as their lights flashed bright red and white, and a news reporter –young and female- was rapidly talking while medics rushed part her...towards a stadium?

"I thought you might want to know.  I just heard about it from Mika-chan when Tohma-san called her," Tatsuha rambled on, unaware that Eiri was standing so close to the television that he was almost a part of it.  "He said there was a bit of an accident on stage at Bad Luck's concert, and...Aniki...are you listening?" The writer dropped the phone and grabbed the entertainment stand, almost ready to shake it.  Was that why Shuichi hadn't come home yet?  Something terrible had happened to him?  For the longest second in his entire life, Eiri felt the cold knife of fear –as he had experienced long ago when he was sixteen and unaware of his sensei's true intentions- stab at his heart until he heard the anchor murmur in astonishment when she read a piece of paper that was handed to her.

"It is now verified that in a desperate attempt to protect the lead singer of Bad Luck, Nakano Hiroshi, talented guitarist for the band, was shot by an unrecognizable audience member from center row.  It is unclear-" There was a sharp bustle as several people burst though the wide doors of the arena, and Eiri squinted, only able to make out enough to calm his racing pulse –pink hair fluttering in a self-made breeze as it raced after the gurney with a limp body on it.  "Here they come!  Perhaps we can get a better explanation of what happened!  Shindou-san!  Shindou-san, could I have a word with you?!" Over the noise, Eiri could hear the addicting voice of the vocalist accusing everything and cursing without a break to breathe.

"Damn all this...can't you see he's hurt?!  Shimatta, shimatta, shimatta!!" Shuichi yelled, stomping his foot to the rhythm he spoke as he whirled around to furiously face the camera and the young woman following him.  "You want a word?  Here!" In the most explicit moment of his public career, the youth clenched his fist and flipped off every viewer watching.  Eiri couldn't help the strangled laugh working its way into his throat at the sight of both Shuichi's unexpected behavior and the woman's embarrassed expression, and he eventually stood, knowing what he had to do.  He picked up the small phone even as he heard his brother's ranting continue.

"Aniki?!  Aniki?!  Damn it all to...are you there?!" Eiri instantly realized that he needed a cigarette.

"Urasai!  I'm leaving," he spoke, promptly shutting off the power to the TV and the phone in one motion.  He knew Tatsuha would be angry at him –he almost always was- but there was something more important he had to contend with.  He just hoped it didn't interfere with his newly improved relationship, the one he was desperate to keep...forever.

TBC-

A/N: Tell me I'm evil and I probably won't update ever again…I'm just joking.  Anyway, so, how was it?  It wasn't worth the two-week delay, probably, but this does have an important significance to the story.  How else am I to get Eiri to the hospital?  Or make Tatsuha angry at his brother for blowing him off the way he did?  Or…okay, so I'll shut up now.  Anyway, I said Hiro wasn't dead (^_^) and he isn't.  Plus, I think it's kawaii to see the way the characters would react in situations such as these…and I'm a sadist, so…  Ah, well, not too much more to tell about this chapter.  I promise that I will have track seven up _sooner_than I had this one up, and I believe there will be more Aizawa interaction.  J  If I am causing everyone to actually _like_Aizawa rather than hate his guts (which I'm sure a lot of people do) then I guess I'm doing alright.  I love my Ai-chan!!  Oh, and even as I write this, I still ponder 'why Ryu and Ai?'  *shrugs* I guess we may never know, but believe me (this time) when I say that Aizawa will get what's coming to him (.) and Ryu-chan will happily be with someone who deserves him.  Care to take any guesses?  LOL. 

Oh, one more quick thing.  I would like to know what everyone thinks about the following: (one) feelings and/or thoughts on Yuki and Hiro (as a pairing, etc.), (two) feelings and/or thoughts on Hiro and Shu, and (three) feelings and/or thoughts on K.  I don't want to give anything away yet, but answer and IT will pay off later on in the fic.  ^_^

Thanks to all of those that reviewed for the last chapter.  I'm completely lazy, and I wanted to get this up quickly, so I couldn't do individual responses, but I will mention your names:

**Lara**

**Mirai Aria**

**Princess of Mirrors**

**Black Dios**

**CJ-Chan**

**punky girl**

**Joan Mistress of Magic**

**Anna Sartin**

StarryEyedChick 

**Krisskittie**

  

Oh, and as always, one HUGE thank you and bundle of appreciation goes to my awesome beta reader, Pato San!!  I won't threaten anyone this chapter (go read War of Hearts before you end up missing a body part .), but I would suggest checking out her awesome fic!  I just love it to death, and I'm so glad to have found someone willing enough to put up with my bad Japanese and writing skills.  Much love and gratitude to her!  _You're the best, Pat-chan!!!_

With that said…REVIEW!  REVIEW!!


	7. Escaping The Shadows

Disclaimer: Me no own.  Just borrowing. 

Warnings:  uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.

Author's Note: *sigh* I've finally gotten un-lazy and posted the seventh installment of The Opposite of Gravity.  I've been SO busy catching up with school work I refused to do because I was too intent on writing my fic to pay attention to and working on other fics that I'm sure will please everyone as soon as I manage to get them done.  ^_^  Anyway, enough with the rambling.  I don't really have much to say other than I'M SORRY!!  Enjoy!

This chapter is dedicated to all of those Tachi lovers out there (myself included)!  He's an intriguing character, and I just LOVE getting inside his head and seeing what makes him tick.  As I've been told, I make people feel sorry for Tachi-chan.  Heh, I have a soft spot for him, and I've always thought there was a deeper meaning behind his actions (against Shuichi and otherwise) other than jealousy.  :P  

Track Seven: Escaping the Shadows 

        Tachi Aizawa shivered as an ache, colder and deeper than any he'd ever known, flowed over his skin, chilling him to the bone.  His fingers were shaking and the icy metal in his hands fell onto the wet black top with a sickening clatter that made his stomach flop.  An overwhelming wave of nausea flared over his mind, and he leaned to the side, dry retching until he could only gasp for breath, hoping that he was still alive.  It had been a dream, he couldn't even remember where the gun had come from, and that contempt-filled gaze that had peered at him from behind the stage curtain had brought him back to a reality of flowing blood and screaming fans, and it had torn out his very soul.  Aizawa curled into a ball, the empty alley comforting the emotional pain he felt, and he ignored the seeping wetness soaking the material of his jeans as he sobbed into his fists, weak, abused, and above all, stupid.

        'Doushite?  Doushite?  I shouldn't have come back-' He gripped the cold brick of the building above him, his feet kicking the murderous weapon between overfilled garbage cans, and he staggered to stand, tripping over his own legs to get himself moving.  He had to find refuge, his entire body was beginning to shut down, and all he could think about were beautiful blue eyes and ragged brown hair.  Aizawa screamed in agony, startling innocent people as he stumbled on, blindly leading himself to a place, any place, that would welcome him for what he had been.  He couldn't live with himself anymore, not after everything he had done, but something within him demanded that he survive.  Was it for the love he'd felt, what seemed, an eternity ago?

        The last thing he acutely recalled thinking was that there was a light on in the window he stared desperately at, and he thought he could hear familiar voices from inside.  Aizawa knocked, his fingers shaking involuntarily, and the laugh that sounded instantly made him sigh in relief.

        He was home.

        "It's about time," a soft masculine tone spoke, but not directly to him.  "I was thinking of eating you instead, Ken-chan." Blonde hair cascaded over a half-clothed shoulder as the door swung open, and Aizawa stared into blinking eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening because of the liberation flooding over him.

        "What is it, Ma-kun?" Another face appeared beside the other man a moment later, shock washing over his features as well, and the vocalist immediately felt his teeth begin to chatter.

        He was cold.  So cold…

        "Tachi?" Emotions exploded in a single wave.  Ma and Ken wrapped the shivering Aizawa in their combined embrace, almost on the verge of tears as they babbled incessantly.  They hadn't seen him in a while, only brief moments over the past month, and they couldn't believe that he was really there.  They had missed him too much for words to express; Aizawa had always been the calm and collected one, their leader, and the completion of ASK, but when he had disappeared, hell had broken loose.  NG-Records wanted nothing to do with them anymore, they were a fragmented band, and there had been no explanation as to why it had happened, though Ma and Ken had a vague idea.  They weren't stupid, and they knew Aizawa shouldn't have touched that Shindou kid…not at all.

        "Ma-kun...Ken-chan..." Aizawa rattled, unable to feel the lower half of his body.  He couldn't even tell if he was standing.  "Gomen.  G-gomen-"

        "Maa, daijoubu, Tachi," Ken answered, slipping beneath Ma's arms to hold the door.  "Come in.  Come in." Working together, they managed to drag their nearly lifeless friend into the apartment and put him on the couch before retrieving a jacket from the tiny closet.  The place wasn't very big, but it suited them for the lifestyle they now lived, away from the glimmer and popularity of being Japanese pop stars.  Ma played with the sleeve of the jacket momentarily and then handed it to Aizawa, realizing that holding it wasn't improving the situation of the quivering vocalist.  Aizawa stared dumbfounded at it, trying to decipher it like a riddle, and he numbly slipped a hand through the arm, his motor skills as frozen as his body.

        "Naa, Tachi..." Golden strands slipped over the ASK member's forehead as he stared at the plush carpet, torn between curiosity and contempt.  He desperately wanted to know what Aizawa had been doing, where he had disappeared to after the alleged attempt on his life by Seguchi Tohma, but Ma could not form the right sentences in his mouth.  Aizawa's tongue was also heavy, laden with the guilt he felt for betraying those he cared so much for, and he buried himself within the coat Ma had given him, afraid to look at his comrades and confess the truth.  What would they _really_ think of him if they found out he had...he had…

        He couldn't even admit it to himself; it was just too unbelievable to be real!

        "Gomen.  Gomen, Ma-kun.  Ken-chan," he apologized over and over, hot tears burning his eyes.  "I didn't mean-"

        "Naa, daijoubu, Tachi.  It's alright," Ma interrupted, grabbing Ken by the hand and dragging him to sit on the couch beside the singer.  "There's nothing to be sorry for."

        "Yeah," Ken added, giving him a small smile.  Aizawa just gazed at them, immediately saddened by the way they were looking at him with hope.

        They would never understand.

        "Iie.  It's unforgivable, and…and I dragged both of you down with me.  You should never have trusted me."

        "We're a team.  Stop saying that it's all your fault!" Ma commanded harshly, his handsome features creasing in anger.  "That's all you've done since those things happened to that Shindou kid!  I'm sick of it!  We're all sick of it, Tachi!" Ken didn't say anything and examined his clasped hands with newfound interest.  Aizawa blinked in surprise.

        Ma was the stronger one; he always had been.

        "Demo-"

        "IIE!  No more, Tachi.  Just accept it and move on.  We have and…and we're glad that you've come back," he whispered quietly, reaching over to take him by the hand.  Aizawa jerked away.

        "Don't," he whimpered weakly, forcing his legs to work as he stood and tumbled towards the door he'd been dragged through.  Someone had closed it.  "Don't bother-" The doorbell rang unexpectedly, and Aizawa fell backwards, his heart pounding too fast to control.  His ebony hair was plastered to the nape of his neck, and he could feel the color in his face draining away.  They had found him!  They had tracked him down, and they would do terrible things to Ma and Ken –never mind himself- and…and…

        "Tachi, what's wrong?" Ma asked as Ken answered the door and returned moments later with a box smelling of greasy cheese and spicy pepperoni.

        "The pizza's here, Ma-chan!" he exclaimed, almost forgetting that Aizawa was on the floor, breathing heavily and paler than snow.  "I-"

        "B-bathroom," Aizawa blurted out, his hand instantly covering his mouth as another flash of nausea overcame him, and he scrambled into the next room, shoving Ma out of the way and leaving Ken to his pizza as he desperately searched for a toilet.  He was going to get sick, his body couldn't handle the overload anymore, and Aizawa eventually tripped into a surprisingly spacious bathroom, his legs collapsing beneath him as he threw up into the clear porcelain bowl, but nothing came because there was nothing in his stomach to lose.  He had already rid himself of everything in the alley, and all that remained was the sickening sensation of what he had done and what he could _not_ be forgiven for.

        He had shot someone, some young, innocent boy who still had the rest of his life to live out.  He had nearly **_murdered_** someone and had caused too many people pain.  Even worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

        HE DIDN'T KNOW WHY!

        Aizawa collapsed on the cool tiles of the floor, his hands shaking even as he reached into the pocket of the jacket around him, desperate to find something to wipe his mouth on.  His fingers brushed over an object buried within the depths of the clothing, and he withdrew it, comprehending with some intellect that it was a piece of faded paper.  Aizawa brought it to his lips, too frail to look for anything else, and he almost spit into it, riding himself of the vile taste on his tongue, until curved and loopy handwriting decorating it caught his attention.  Weakly, he unfolded it, his vision focusing for a fleeting moment on the letters and numbers before he completely crumpled onto the bathroom floor, cradling the fragment of memory against his chest.

        _"Give me another," Aizawa slurred at the man standing behind the counter, running the tap.  Although he was the only one, there were a few other people wandering in from outside, and Aizawa only sensed the beginning of his sorrow.  ASK was going to hell, thanks to a bunch of high school-aged brats who were stealing **his** fame, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain except drink.  He'd been here since he'd convinced Ma to cut their practice hours early.  The bartender glanced sympathetically at him._

_        "Perhaps you shouldn't-"_

_        "Just give it to me!" he yelled, slapping his hand on the hard top, ignoring the sting shooting up his wrist.  The guy only blinked at him and shakily tipped the liquor bottle over the rim of Aizawa's shot glass, filling it to the rim.  "Arigato." He nursed drink with the same efficiency he had the others. An out-of-place laugh suddenly startled him, almost making him spill the alcohol on the floor._

_        "Konnichi wa, sensei-sama!" a familiar voice cried happily, a thin body settling itself comfortably next to him.  Aizawa couldn't have cared less who it was and continued to sip the cool liquor, closing his eyes to savor what little taste was left to it._

_        "Oi, Sakuma-san!  Same as usual?"_

_        "Hai!" There was an exchange of money and a glass slipping across the counter, and then, Aizawa blinked, turning his head to the side.  Though his vision was partially distorted from intoxication, he could easily make out greenish-brown hair brushed neatly over a smooth face greedily swallowing something obviously non-alcoholic.  Aizawa could sense the enlightened smell of apples radiating from him, and he wrinkled his nose._

_        "Sakuma-san, eh?" he asked, staring at the bottom of his glass.  "How nice." Blue eyes blinked at him._

_        "Who are you, Na No?" Aizawa couldn't help the grin, he had no idea why, and that had been the beginning.  They'd talked for hours in that small bar, and when Ryuichi had offered to give him his number, he could not resist.  "In case you get lost, No Da," he murmured, sliding the paper secretively into his hand with a bewitching smile.  "You can never be too safe." Aizawa pulled Ryuichi to him, ignoring the stupid look on the bartender's face, and he cupped his chin, their noses brushing.  _

_        "What makes you think I'll get lost?" Ryuichi snickered._

_        "I just have a feeling." And, he kissed him, his mouth soft and pliant against his own._

        Aizawa licked his lips, faintly tasting the apple juice on his breath from that time, and the salt melted onto his tongue, the tears hot on his cheeks as reality burned into his heart.

        He cried.

TBC-

 

A/N: Well, I know there are a few things I should mention, but I'm not going to because, let's face it, I'm REALLY lazy.  LOL.  I know everyone's probably wondering where I came up with the stuff I've written about, and the answer is: I'm not really sure.  I'm motivated by weird, outlandish things.  Heh, anyway, the last part about Aizawa being in the bar was completely spur of the moment, and I figure that Ryuichi isn't much of a drinker (unless he's angry or whatnot) so I decided to have the bartender keep stocks of apple juice for our beloved singer.  ^_^ Ah, well…I'm finished rambling.  I hope everyone enjoyed the seventh chapter, and I won't take so long updating next time.  Leave me a nice long review and email me if you want someone to talk to.  I love talking!!  ^.^

A lot of appreciation and gratitude goes out to all of my wonderful reviewers.  If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the courage to post anymore, but I'm glad everyone likes this.  It's weird, I know, but hang tight, and I promise not to disappoint in the future.  ^_^

One GIANT thanks, bundle of kisses and hugs, and years of worshipping all go to my beloved friend and beta reader, Pat San!  If she didn't catch all of my mistakes, I'd probably scream in insanity and destroy all that I have of my fic.  LOL.  (If no one caught that, it was a joke.)  Anyway, please pay her tribute and read her story, War of Hearts!  I'm sure you'll fall in love with her seductive blonde player as much as I have…so much in fact that I am on the verge of finishing something I've written specially for my beta in appreciation of her wonderful talents!  I hope everyone will check it out as soon as I post it.  You want a teaser?  Okay, I won't deny…I'm such a push-over!  

_"What the HELL do you WANT?!" Eiri growled, flinging the door open hard enough to crack the opposite wall waiting innocuously behind it to slow its ascent in speed.  Amused eyes of liquid kiwi stared mischievously at him, lengthened strands of shimmering blonde falling over a smooth forehead and two slightly arched, finely shaped eyebrows.  _

_"How are you this morning, Eiri-kun?"  Hatori asked, ignoring the fact that the author was on the verge of ramming his smiling face into the half-broken doorknob of his abused front door.  "I'm well.  Thanks for asking.  May I come in?"  Without an answer, Hatori walked into the hallway that preceded the living room, brushing by Eiri with nothing more than rude politeness before slipping off the gym shoes he was wearing.  It was then that the novelist realized that Hatori was dressed in a pair of loose jeans that clung to his hips -instead of the classier slacks he chose to wear- and a loose t-shirt with the kanji for 'wild and reckless' painted across its front in bold, bright characters replaced the normally monotonous blazer he had adopted to live in.  Eiri shook his head and carefully closed the abused door, a tug-o-war already taking place inside his head.  Why did he suddenly care what Hatori wore?  Eiri had to remind himself that he **hated** this man._

Ah, well, that was a little much for a teaser.  Tehe…I hope it's interesting enough to draw some readers.  Anyway, this will definitely be dedicated to Pat San when it's finished.  I'm just an advertiser and like to throw things at people.  *showers reviewers with candy* See?  LOL.  I'm all out of words!  PLEASE REVIEW!!

Okay…so I have to throw a teaser in for the next chapter of The Opposite of Gravity.  Heh:

The writer leaned against the wall, fingers itching to light one of the cigarettes in his pocket, but rules were rules, and Eiri didn't want to get thrown out before retrieving his lover.  He could imagine the look on Shuichi's face when he showed up, almost concerned enough to care that his best friend had been hurt, and the thought was almost worth the trip.  The pink-haired ball of energy was undeniably kawaii, though he was too feminine for his own good, and it was everything about him that made that allure which drew so many to him.  Somewhere within him, Eiri was proud to say he had claimed the singer for his own, and just the very image of Shuichi lying wantonly in his arms sent his hormones into overdrive.  Eiri knew it wasn't all about sex, not that he didn't like it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

Note to self: I am evil.  *grin*


	8. Confessing His Sin

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing. 

Warnings: uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.

Author's Note: Yeah!  I'm back with another update!!  *squeals* I am just SO excited about this fic because people are enjoying it!  A lot of thanks to those that read and review…and to those silent people that just read!  :P  Please see my ramblings at the end!!  You know how much I love to talk!!

Please enjoy!!

Track Eight: Confessing His Sin

        Eiri blinked, adjusting his sight to the dimness of the local hospital, and he found he was nervously biting his lip before he could pull himself together.  It had been a habit he'd long forgotten or perhaps it was he'd never had to worry so much about anything before.  Eiri could remember those peaceful weeks of solitary confinement where writing was the only significance in his life –that and drinking and smoking- but Shuichi's abrupt and forceful push into his life was difficult to deal with.  The novelist could handle stress, or at least, he had been able to until the built-up surplus of suppressed memories had sent him to the hospital.  Being back in a pristine place full of agony and the clean smell of death wasn't something he enjoyed.  Eiri tried to smile as he casually strolled onto the elevator and hit the button for the specific floor the nurse at the registration desk had told him.  

What women wouldn't do for a kind word and sweet smile from the ever-attractive Yuki Eiri…

        The writer leaned against the wall, fingers itching to light one of the cigarettes in his pocket, but rules were rules, and Eiri didn't want to get thrown out before retrieving his lover.  He could imagine the look on Shuichi's face when he showed up, almost concerned enough to care that his best friend had been hurt, and the thought was almost worth the trip.  The pink-haired ball of energy was undeniably kawaii, though he was too feminine for his own good, and it was everything about him that made that allure which drew so many to him.  Somewhere within him, Eiri was proud to say he had claimed the singer for his own, and just the very image of Shuichi lying wantonly in his arms sent his hormones into overdrive.  Eiri knew it wasn't all about sex, not that he didn't like it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

        He was only a man, after all, and being in an elevator brought back some _fine_ memories.

        Well, there weren't actually any memories, just one in particular Eiri could really think of, and the edge of his mouth curled upward at the thought.  He'd had his first taste of the singer in an elevator, as it shut them inside their own world, and Shuichi had played the shy little virgin, blinking stupidly up at him while he'd kissed him to his content.  Eiri hadn't taken the time to think he really _had_ been a virgin –for all he knew, the boy could have been messing with his head- until the night after his first concert and Eiri had made love to him.  Shuichi had cried incessantly then.  'Itai, Yuki,' or 'Yamero, Yuki,' had been the only thing he'd heard until he'd managed to get him subdued enough to give him the privileged experience of his first orgasm.  At least, Eiri had taken it to be that.  He'd certainly yelled his name loud enough, and his hearing had never truly recovered from it, but why was he thinking about all this now?

        Shuichi wasn't a sex toy, but, Eiri thought with sarcasm, that could have been debatable, too.  He certainly liked giving almost as much as he received.

        "Konnichi wa, Eiri-san," a voice murmured softly as he stepped out of the elevator, his thoughts receding to the present despite the image of a naked Shuichi in the back of his mind.  Eiri scowled habitually, disliking being snuck up upon, and he had to force himself not to roll his eyes in mock agitation.  His brother-in-law emerged from the shadows, clothes a little more casual than usual, but he still looked better dressed than he did.  Eiri had been in too much of a hurry to actually care, he was dressed in his writing attire –a loose pair of slacks and a shirt two times larger than his thin frame- completely mismatched with the only shoes he owned.  He shrugged nonchalantly, his fingers burning to light a cigarette and smoke it.

        "Tohma." Well, at least he had acknowledged him.  His sister's husband brought back too many unwanted memories, though he'd confronted them with his ever-energetic lover's help.  He had met Yuki Kitazawa because of Tohma and because of Tohma, Yuki Kitazawa had died, accidentally murdered in terrified self-defense.

        "Eiri-san, what are you doing here?  I thought you had developed a fear of these places," he spoke gently, giving him that wary smile Eiri could never trust.  Tohma deciphered people, almost like a second profession he had to dutifully perform, but no one could figure the producer out.  He was an unreadable book, grinning through deceit and conviction, and that single characteristic made Eiri cautious.

        "I had to get out," he replied, his hand slipping into the pants pocket that held his portable pack of heaven.  What he wouldn't do to just _smell_ the nicotine…

        "So desu-ka?  And, a hospital was a place you chose to...get out to?" Lemon-lime eyes flashed dangerously.

        "What is it that you want, Tohma?" Light reflected across his face, highlighting his platinum hair, and Eiri took a step back. 

        He looked like an angelic devil.

        "To know how you are.  We barely talk anymore, Eiri-san."

        "We never talked, Tohma." He smiled smoothly at him.  "I'm fine." He tried to walk past him, intent on reclaiming his lover and taking him home, where he belonged, but Tohma grabbed the writer's wrist.

        "Matte, Eiri-san.  That's not what I meant." Eiri glared harshly at him, almost repulsed at his contact.  It had been one thing to be sixteen and comforted by him when he'd realized what he'd done, but it was something else to touch him without permission, now.  Eiri could not stand it, and it was a privilege he designated _only_ for Shuichi.

        "You seem to have a lot of difficulty saying what you really mean these days, Tohma."

        "Eiri-san-"

        "Iie.  Just let it go, Tohma.  Can't you see that I don't care anymore?" Blue eyes blinked up at him, oddly reminding him of those innocent looks Shuichi would always give him to convince him to do something he wouldn't ever think of doing.

        "I don't know what you mean, Eiri-san." Eiri couldn't resist rolling his eyes this time.

        "You and I both know you're not stupid." He paused, his gaze flickering to watch a couple walk past them and further on down the corridor.  "I didn't come here for this.  Please excuse me." 

He may have been harsh, but he wasn't cruel.

        "What did you come here for, then, Eiri-san?"

        "Think about it.  You'll figure it out...eventually." Eiri resumed his course of action, the dimmed hallway barely lit enough to allow him to read the room numbers, and he could hear the soft sigh of disappointment as he fled.  He hadn't wanted any confrontations, especially with Tohma, since it would have only ended in someone getting hurt, but Eiri supposed it was unavoidable.  He didn't have any _real_ control over the situation.  Eiri ignored the guilt rising in his chest –it was one annoying side effect of having Shuichi as a lover; he could always soften him- and entered the doorway designated to be Nakano Hiroshi's, his name printed neatly beside the entrance.  

His eyes adjusted to the bright shine of the moonlight pouring into the room, instantly narrowing in on the tiny body curled up against the bed, pink hair contrasting with the white blanket covering the singer's friend.  Eiri glared at the fact Shuichi's fingers were tightly intertwined with the guitarist's, but he knew it was nothing to truly worry about.  Shuichi obviously loved his companion, but it was a different form of love than what he felt for Eiri.  At least, Eiri thought that to be true.  Sometimes, it was difficult to tell with his rambunctious lover always flitting about saying 'Hiro, this,' and 'Hiro, that,' with the customary 'Sakuma-san, this,' and 'Sakuma-san, that,' to follow.

        Maybe Shuichi loved everybody.  Eiri did not know.

        The novelist's steps evaporated when he'd walked halfway across the floor, his vision finally adjusting itself to the lack of illumination, and he blinked at the extra person occupying a chair by the window, eyes fixed at some untraceable object in the darkened distance.  Eiri was almost sick of seeing the image of Sakuma Ryuichi everywhere around him –Shuichi worshipped the pop star legend and his brother was beyond obsessed with him- but something seemed different about him as Eiri watched the man shift in his seat.  He held himself with more dignity and had less of a child's expression upon his face, even the frown was almost fashioned to fit his elfin features, but there was something in his shadowed orbs of sapphire that nearly made Eiri shudder.  He looked worn, stretched too thin over the course of time, and at that very moment, Sakuma Ryuichi showed every day of his thirty-one years in the pitiful loneliness the once-popular vocalist was silently conveying.

        How could anyone truly compare his precious Shuichi –young and full of life- with something as half-dead as him?

        "Naa, Yuki Eiri-sama," Ryuichi murmured, noticing him despite the fact that he had not moved.  "Are you here for Shuichi?" The honor and respect surprised Eiri.  He never would have thought one as greatly cherished as Ryuichi would hold an equal amount of the same emotion for someone as rash as his petite lover.  Shuichi was famous, Eiri would admit, almost as much as the other had been, but he hadn't the natural, untapped talent Ryuichi still possessed.

        "Hai." His voice sounded cold and empty in the vast room, but Ryuichi didn't seem to care what his answer was.  He rubbed the outstanding white patch of gauze on the inside crook of his elbow and turned to stare at him, completely exhausted.

        "Daijoubu, Yuki Eiri-sama.  He's fine." Eiri gazed at him, almost speechless, and he then turned towards Shuichi, watching with fascination as the boy mumbled in his sleep and commenced to openly drool on the sheets.

        "Baka," he murmured, walking to stand next to him.  Eiri no longer wanted a cigarette as badly as he wanted and needed Shuichi.  He was the epitome of beautiful –soft locks of mesmerizing pink falling over his tiny, kawaii ears and the neck he liked so much- and Eiri instantly forgot that he was in a hospital, in a room with two other people.  He knelt beside him, articulate fingers stroking at his cheek, and hazy blue eyes slowly peeked open, staring at him in a daze before one of his timid, blood-boiling smiles slid onto his face.  Eiri couldn't help returning the gesture, and he tilted his head to the side, running nimble fingers into the strands of his hair.  "Are you hurt?"

        "Iie, demo-" Shuichi glanced nervously at Hiro, his face serene in the moon's glow, and he agonizingly worked himself free of his friend's hold before turning to wrap his arms around his lover.  His familiar tobacco and cologne smell swathed him, and he nuzzled his neck, whimpering quietly.  "Hiro's-" He was obviously on the verge of tears from the fault in his light, nearly childish voice.

        "I know," Eiri whispered softly, enfolding the singer in his arms.  "I know." Shuichi shook his head and sniffed.

        "Iie.  It-it was my fault, and-and…Yuki, I have to tell y-you something…" Eiri peeled him off of him to tilt his chin up.

        "Urasai." The writer crushed him mouth forcefully against Shuichi's lips, his tongue prying between them to delve inside, and he could feel himself getting lost even as the vocalist struggled to get away.

        "Iie, Yuki!  This is important-" Eiri grabbed him by the shoulders.

        "Then what is it?" he hissed furiously, upset that his fun was not being so willing as usual.  Shuichi bit his lip.

        "Well, you see I…I-I mean…Hiro and I…we-" The chair Ryuichi was sitting in –the singer quietly forgotten in his own world- flipped backwards as he suddenly stood, eyes frantically searching the room before landing on the almost intertwined Eiri and Shuichi.  A blush fell onto his face.

        "G-gomen.  GOMEN!" he repeated, fleeing the room, his fluffy bunny companion forgot on the sill of the window he'd been looking out of.  Shuichi blinked in confusion, staring brazenly up at his lover, and Eiri only glanced back at him, unable to answer his silent question.

        Why had Ryuichi been crying?

TBC-

A/N: *hides in corner* I left off at a bad spot, ne?  No one kill me…I'm actually just getting warmed up.  ^_^ I have a whole lot more planned for future chapters (If I can just get out of my slump and write more -.- ) and can anyone say lemon later on?!  Can anyone guess who it will be, too??  I can't resist teasing.  Should I tease?  I'm a bad teaser…though it's not like anyone cares.  *thinks* Okay, maybe I'll give in…but after I ramble some more.  So, did anyone think Eiri was particularly mean to Shu-chan?  What about the interaction between Eiri and Tohma?  I'm not too adept at writing things concerning Tohma (for some reason he's _very_ difficult to decipher), but I suppose I did alright!  Let me know what you think!!  ^_^

Reviews:

**StarryEyedChick**: *gasp* You don't feel sorry for Ai-chan?  Really?  Wow.  That's a surprise…well, not really!  ^_~  The bar scene was completely spur of the moment, and to imagine Aizawa actually shooting someone…well…that was interesting in itself.  I hope this chapter pleased you!!

**Joan Mistress of Magic**:  _Aw, man?  _What?  What did I do?!  *cries* I'm so useless…I hope you come back and review more, though!

**Black Dios**: Red Moon!  What did I tell you about insulting Black Dios?  :P  Bad, Red Moon, bad!  Oh, and I apologize for confusing you.  Aizawa is definitely confusing.  Perhaps that's why I love him so much!!

**Silverone**: Well, I'm glad that you like it…it's really not that good, though…from my point of view, anyway.  Also, I can't tell you how it ends!  That would be bad…but I'm sure you will love it…I hope.  ^_^  Aizawa and Yuki characterization?  I do a good job?  Really?  *blushes* THANK YOU! (And, I appreciate the only review I got on Gurbiteshiyon.net!!  Makes me happy!!)

**Lara**: Yeah, I thought it was cute how Ryu didn't drink alcohol in the bar, either.  *shrugs* Just something off the top of my head…like this entire fic.  O.o  I'm glad I have at least one person who will read A Bed Of Glass when I post it.  Hope it's cool!

**Mirai**** Aria**: Nah, don't worry about being lazy!  I'm lazy, too…as you can tell!  *sigh* I know the chapter was short…this one is too, but I promise it won't EVER be any shorter than that!  I force myself to write a minimum of seven pages or so for each chapter.  .  Well, if you ever have anything constructive to say, just tell me.  Oh, and if you want to see that picture of Hari I drew for Pato San then email me!!  Hehe… (And, where's Yuki 14?!)

Oh, and last but certainly never least, my brilliant, awesome, astounding, insanely kick ass, beta reader **Pato**** San**!  *gives thousands of hugs and kisses* You are the best, and if it weren't for you…I'd make a complete fool of myself.  Er…well, writing wise I mean.  Can't say to much about my mental capacity.  Anyway, everyone worship her story as much as I do by reading and reviewing **War of Hearts** (which still needs to be UPDATED!  *waits patiently for chapter to beta* *goes insane*)!!  Read it…or I will never forgive you!!

Okay, now that I'm done with that, there are a few things I need to say.  First of all, check out **Aku**** Aiko's** first and latest addition to the Gravi fandom, **Mending Hearts**!  Considering that it has Tohma in it, and she portrays Tohma better than I do, I recommend it to everyone!  Read, read!!  Also, check out **Soruto**'s original story on _fictionpress.com_ called **Devil's Doorstep**.  I'm completely jealous as to how anyone can come up with something so original and brilliant at the same time that leaves me angry and…sad. Leave them both a review, even if it is just a few words!  They need the support!!  ^_^

For next chapter:

_Tatsuha__ craned his neck up to stare at the large posters covering the walls above his mattress, and he sighed contentedly at the sight of glossy flesh peeking beneath a skimpy shirt.       _

_He loved Sakuma Ryuichi with a vengeance, but he had never really understood who he had been until he'd met him for the first time, face-to-face.  However, he still didn't truly know who he was.  The amount of emotional changes he'd seen the singer of Nittle Grasper portray was enough to make anyone question how well off the vocalist actually was, but Tatsuha didn't care.  He worshipped Ryuichi, loved his physical attributes just as much as the mental –he was just too kawaii- and he would have done anything for him if he had only asked.  It bothered him to know that something haunted his idol, and he couldn't help wondering what Ryuichi had meant when he'd first woken up and had stared into those bottomless crystalline depths. _

Tell me I'm evil.  I just love doing this!  It's the only pleasure I get in life!!  Please review!!

Oh…almost forgot!  Teaser:

_He let loose a keening cry, his heart torn between two worlds, two choices, two loves.  The new Shuichi, the one who had finally learned that determination wasn't relying on others, wanted the distinctness of his handsome blonde lover, wanted to be in his arms forever, without a care in the world, but the other Shuichi, his practical and old-fashioned side, craved to have his best friend's mouth exploring him, tearing him apart in search of secrets and never surrendering him to the cruelness of reality._

Now say that I am evil…and I will believe you.  *grins*  


	9. He Who Wears The Mask

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, and I'm very saddened by the fact that I do not.

Warnings: uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.

Author's Notes: *dances* Well, not too much up here.  Everyone knows I leave my ramblings for _after_ the chapter, but there are a few things I need say.  First off, back to Tatsuha!  I bet all you Tatsuha fans are ecstatic about that, ne?  I hope no one thought I forgot about him.  ^_^  Anyway, a little bit of Ayaka bashing, but everyone should know that I don't like her at all.  Candy to those who do, but I don't because of certain reasons I'm sure everyone already knows about.  Also, more Ryuichi!  I'm sure everyone was wondering why he burst out of room like that, and Shu-chan (and Eiri) had something to do with it.  O.o  Why am I such a masochist?  I'm not really sure about that myself.  Well, I better stop rambling.  I don't want to bore anyone.  Oh…almost forgot…Hiro's older brother makes his debut!  Everyone glomp Yuji! 

With much joy, I happily _dedicate_ this chapter to **Silverone**!  Long live Tachi and Ryuichi!! ^_^  Hope this pleases you!

R&R and enjoy, everyone!!

Track Nine: He Who Wears The Mask

          Tatsuha angrily slammed his phone closed, nearly crushing the delicate metal as he fumed, thinking of silently cursing his older brother with another voodoo ritual he'd read about on the Internet.  Eiri deserved it, he didn't have to treat him like he had no feelings or emotions to even consider, the youth was so close to shoving a pin into the exquisitely-shaped doll lying on his floor that he could feel his fingers twitching.  It wasn't that he actually believed it would work, but something in the act itself was comforting, and Tatsuha shook his head in surrender, flopping agitatedly onto his bed with the phone to his chest.  His sibling was hopelessly lost in Shindou Shuichi's charm, and perhaps he shouldn't have told the pink-haired singer that Eiri had liked winding him up; it was obvious that Shuichi was the one who kept the romance novelist on a yo-yo.  Tatsuha craned his neck up to stare at the large posters covering the walls above his mattress, and he sighed contentedly at the sight of glossy flesh peeking beneath a skimpy shirt.

          He loved Sakuma Ryuichi with a vengeance, but he had never really understood who he had been until he'd met him for the first time, face-to-face.  However, he still didn't truly know who he was.  The amount of emotional changes he'd seen the singer of Nittle Grasper portray was enough to make anyone question how well off the vocalist actually was, but Tatsuha didn't care.  He worshipped Ryuichi, loved his physical attributes just as much as the mental –he was just too kawaii- and he would have done anything for him if he had only asked.  It bothered him to know that something haunted his idol, and he couldn't help wondering what Ryuichi had meant when he'd first woken up and had stared into those bottomless crystalline depths. 

_           "...I know you."_

          But how?  Tatsuha had never met him before, despite having Tohma as a brother-in-law and even Shuichi as a friend, but the singer had said it as easily as one breathes and had promptly kissed him afterwards.  The sixteen-year-old closed his eyes at the memory, welling in it, and his fingers shakily touched the curve of his mouth.  He had never experienced something so shocking, so...awe-inspiring in his life, and the power Ryuichi had held over him at that moment made Tatsuha realize just how weak he really was.  He would have given his very life to have it happen again, even if it was just a brushing of lips, but in his mind, Ryuichi would be more insistent, feisty even, and his mouth would be like liquid heaven on his flesh, teasing playfully enough to have him going into shock.  He'd never really been submissive in any of the relationships he'd managed to somehow have –with keeping the peace in his family and helping his father with the temple, he'd hardly had time- but for Ryuichi, he would have gladly turned uke to be with him. 

          Tatsuha grimaced, the pressure in his groin rising as the heat in his face took flame, and he rolled over, pressing his nose into the soft pillow while the phone against his chest crushed into his skin.  He couldn't be doing this now, not when there were other things to do –he had to study, sadly, for school, sweep the temple steps, assist in prayer-but he couldn't help it.  He was a teenager, who happened to like both sexes equally, though his fascination with Ryuichi made him completely forget about girls, and he wanted to lay there and dream wistfully of the other.  He'd always wanted to know how the singer would have felt, being in his arms, and feeling up Shuichi the very first time he'd met him, in his brother's apartment, hadn't really been all that he'd thought it was going to be.  In his mind, Ryuichi was supple and agile, not awkward and flaccid against him as Bad Luck's vocalist had been.  It hadn't been a very enlightening experience, and he'd made his brother mad, too. 

          Tatsuha sighed hesitantly in defeat before forcing himself to sit up, the phone wasn't very comfortable being part of his upper ribcage, and he stared down at his hands before glancing at the smiling and sweaty poster of Ryuichi again.  There was no use in wishing for something he could not have, Sakuma Ryuichi was 'The Untouchable,' and Tatsuha wasn't in a class high enough to reach him, but…

          He still hoped, and that, to him, was more than everything he had.

          Abrupt ringing nearly caused the youth to fall to the floor, and he stared at the device in his hand, wondering.  It was too late for anyone to actually be calling, if he hadn't insisted on taking a break, he would have still been helping his father and wouldn't have heard about the latest news-breaking story from his sister. Tatsuha just shrugged, knowing that it could have only been important if someone demanded to speak to him at such an outrageous hour.  Maybe it was Eiri calling to apologize –he never would, but a younger brother could dream- or maybe it was…

          He shook his head and hit a button on the number pad; he had to stop living in a fantasy.

          "Moshi moshi?" There was a pause before a feminine voice poured into his ears.

          "G-gomen nasai, Tatsuha-san.  I-I know that it's late but-"

          "Ayaka-chan?" The youth sat up straighter.  This was certainly a surprise.

          "H-hai.  I-I just heard about…on the television…and…will you take me to Tokyo?"

          "Doushite?!" He didn't realize that he was asking a stupid question.

          "N-Nakano-san…" Reality smacked Tatsuha in the face, and it hurt.  "He was…he was…please, Tatsuha-san, take me to Tokyo!"

          "D-demo-"

          "Onegai?  Tatsuha-san, I've never really asked you to do anything until now.  Please, this is important to me!" Tatsuha glanced at the clock resting peacefully on the bedside table and groaned inwardly.  It was nearly midnight –he had yet to actually complete any of the tasks his father had given him earlier- and Ayaka wanted him to drive her to Tokyo? 

          What kind of messed world was she living in?

          "I…anou…Ayaka-chan, I'd really love to help you, but I don't…have any form of…to-"

          "Tatsuha…" Ayaka's voice was quiet, almost on the verge of tears, and the teenager crossed his eyes in frustration, his breath ruffling the bangs hanging over his forehead, before he gave up.  He couldn't stand it when women cried; it was a weakness he had. 

          "Alright," he muttered, running graceful fingers through his mussed mane.  "Let me…I need to fix my bike and…we'll leave early tomorrow, ne?" Ayaka squealed excitedly.

          "Domo arigato gozaimasu!  I-I don't know how to thank you, Tatsuha-kun!"

          "It's my pleasure," he lied sincerely, wanting to obliterate the phone by throwing it against the wall.  Voodoo was also tempting, but Tatsuha doubted that it worked as well on inanimate objects as it did on people.  "I'll see you in a little while."

          "H-hai!  Arigato, Tatsuha-kun!  Arigato!  Ja ne!"

          "…sure…" A dull ringing ensued, and Tatsuha cursed himself repeatedly as he hung up the phone, aggravated by the circumstances he easily tangled himself in.  Ayaka was nice, he liked her out of general intrigue and curiosity, but Tatsuha sometimes doubted her individuality as a person.  Aside form the undying love she harbored for his older brother, she seemed overly bland and appeared to not have a personality of her own.  Tatsuha couldn't blame her though; her parents were almost as strict as his father was, perhaps more so.  Sighing, the teenager blinked himself awake; he was really tired from the unintentional lack of sleep since he'd visited Eiri –he could not get the erotic sounds coming from his brother's bedroom out of his mind- and he smiled secretively to himself as he began gathering the necessary items he would need to perform surgery on his beloved vehicle.

          Maybe he would get to see Ryuichi again, and this time, Tatsuha thought, he would be sure to kiss back. 

*        *        *

          Ryuichi broke out of the hospital room in a run, nearly slipping on the freshly waxed linoleum in his haste, and he panted, warm wetness bathing his cheeks as fragmented images flashed by him even while he escaped the personal world of Shuichi and his blonde lover.  Aizawa smiled at him; Aizawa kissed him tenderly; Aizawa became Tatsuha to comfort his soul…  He wanted to scream at the pent-up rage threatening to rupture his heart, and he completely broke down near an area filled with vending machines, his entire body convulsing in fractured tremors at the memories.  He was so stupid, and he cried furiously at his ignorance, causing more tears to soak his skin and clothing.  He couldn't stop the emotional pain from evolving into something more real than he could explain.  His chest was constricted with agony, and it felt as though his ribs were squeezing so tightly around his lungs that it was impossible for him to breathe.  Ryuichi couldn't feel anything; he didn't care if he was supposed to be the carefree, childish one anymore.  His entire reason for living had just been thrown out the metaphorical window.

          The singer sobbed unabashedly against his fingers, nearly gouging his eyes into the palms of his hands, and he wailed achingly in misery, unable to accept the inevitable.  Aizawa _had_ come back, there was no denying it –he'd recognized him the moment he'd accidentally looked out the stage curtain- and he'd replayed the entire incident in his mind, trying to convince himself that it hadn't been his beloved who'd done that horrible, unthinkable thing, but his conscience wouldn't let him accept it.  Ryuichi had known all along what his lover was truly capable of, but he hadn't believed it.  He still couldn't believe it!  Aizawa was the type of person to kiss and make it better when he fell, to cheer him up when he was sad, to find it endearing that the portraits he drew looked like a third grader's handiwork, to think him special and not a singing sex symbol.  Aizawa was the type of person to look beyond the superficial and accept people for who they were.

          Aizawa wasn't a murderer. 

          _"Naa, Ai-chan, why is this in your closet, Na No Da?" Ryuichi's innocent face peeked at his lover from within the darkness he was eagerly exploring, and the grinning face the older man had come to recognize and cherish as truly being Tachi Aizawa stared back at him over the edge of a book he'd been skimming through, an eyebrow raised in silent question._

_          "Why is what in my closet?" Ryuichi promptly pushed the door aside and sauntered out of the confining space, giggling energetically, and Aizawa lifted his gaze, exchanging words for a sight that left him blinking.  The older singer was clad in a tight pink dress, his hips and thighs giving the material shape and leaving nothing to the imagination.  Kumagoro-san was clutched loosely between his crossed arms as he spun in a circle, and Ryuichi hopped over to where Aizawa rested a moment later, carefully ignoring the mess of cookies he'd left on the floor._

_          "This!  Isn't it pretty, Na No Da?" Aizawa slipped off of his bed, smirking mischievously, and he caught the edge of the dress, tugging Ryuichi impossibly close with an easy flick of his wrist.  His fingers slowly began to pull up the delicate clothing, revealing inches of shapely leg, and a warm splash of red spread across Ryuichi's cheeks._

_          "Very pretty, but I think…you'll look even prettier…without it on," he murmured seductively, his mouth sucking gently at the flesh beneath the other's jaw.  Ryuichi shivered before falling backwards, his legs unable to support him, and Aizawa tumbled after him onto the mattress, laughing playfully as Ryuichi stared hungrily up at him.  "Hai…very pretty." And, he proceeded to steal his breath with those hungry kisses he always dreamed about._

          "Aizawa-" His name dove from his mouth in a dead whisper, half-grieving, half-regretful.  That had been one of many memories with the gifted vocalist, and he knew Aizawa wasn't a murderer.  Aizawa _couldn't_ be a murderer.  He was the persona that Ryuichi remembered –sweet, kind, and forever loving- and he couldn't have been the demon of his nightmares, the one he was eternally afraid to touch or look at.  But, if it were true, if that unforgivable sin was somehow true, Ryuichi remained more a monster than anyone, including his treacherously perfect lover.  He had treated people so terribly, had turned his back on Shuichi when the younger singer had needed his friends the most, and he didn't deserve the respect he was given.  Already, he lived in a grave, forgotten and childish.

          He didn't deserve anything.

          "I…I don't mean to bother you, but…it looks as though you could use one of these," a strange voice whispered softly, forcing Ryuichi to stifle a sob long enough for him to get a good look at the person crouching beside him, a handkerchief dangling from his long fingers.  There was a crooked smile on the man's handsome face, eyes a faded shade of blue sparkling at him, and Ryuichi had to return the expression of kindness despite the pain conquering his heart; he couldn't help it.  The mysterious person wore his hair semi-long, raggedly cut in a self-attempt at grooming it into neatness, and the color was familiar, though the remains of a badly done dye job was evident among its lustrous maroon hue.

          "A-arig-gat-to," he sniffed, wiping his eyes with the corners of the cloth he had accepted from him.

          "No problem at all," the man answered, winking brightly at him.  It was then Ryuichi noticed a pair of sunglasses held locks of his hair out of his eyes and that a bag was slung around his neck.  He briefly wondered what it was for.  "Someone as cute as you shouldn't be crying your eyes out in a hospital." The singer blushed.

          "I-I couldn't help i-it," he tried to explain, recalling the agony still occupying his thoughts, and he began to cry again, unable to control the flood of tears.  A hand touched his shoulder.

          "There, there.  Everything will be fine!  Do you mind if I share a secret with you?" There wasn't enough time for Ryuichi to answer since the man continued, obviously liking the sound of his own voice.  "You see…my brother's here…and I'm not sad because I know he's a tough son of a…ah, well, I shouldn't say it like that.  Be making fun of my own mother.  You get the idea, ne?" Ryuichi nodded solemnly, thinking to have laughed if he'd been able to.  He liked this stranger, he was so incredibly nice to him without obviously expecting anything back, and all he could do was sit and cry like the child he impersonated with finesse.  There was a powerful laugh, and Ryuichi blinked through his tears to examine the other more thoroughly; he was so familiar.  His features were almost delicate, but the masculinity of his smile remained strong and confident, and he looked like…  He looked like…

          "Who-who are you?" Another heart-wrenching grin.

          "Nakano Yuji desu." Ryuichi couldn't grasp the familiarity, though it was verbally slapping him in the face, and Yuji shook his head, tendrils of red caressing his high cheekbones.  "I'm not famous yet, but maybe you know my younger bro?  Tall?  Long hair?  Plays guitar?" He mimicked the motion with fluid grace, and Ryuichi smirked kindly, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, smearing tears across his nose.  

          "I-I like to play guitar," he whispered, earning a pat on his bicep.

          "Hounto ni?" 

          "Demo…I-I'm not very good at it." There was a laugh.

          "You can't excel at everything you do." A pause.  "What do you do, then?  You seem so familiar."

          "He sings," a voice interrupted, bringing their attention to the diminutive blonde-haired man standing in the mix of shadows and light.  His smile was warm, gleaming teeth shining mysteriously in the darkness, but the unrecognizable emotion flickering in his inquisitive, though judging eyes was disturbing to look at any longer than a few seconds.  Yuji stood, respectfully putting distance between himself and Ryuichi, and Tohma slowly walked forward, concern washing over him as he examined the singer with relish and alarm.  His ragged hair clung to his tear-stained face, plastered to his cheeks like a second skin, and his eyes were a liquid blue, so deep and sodden that he knew Ryuichi was lost with only a glance into them.

          _His_ Ryuichi was suffering.

          "Daijoubu desu-ka…Ryuichi-san?" His voice remained soft.

          And, Tohma was unprepared for the reaction given to him.

          "I-I want to go home," Ryuichi sobbed, tears once again rolling down to splash on the floor.  "I-I want…I want…" The word that left the singer's lips caused the former keyboardist's heart to stop and then ache so deeply it actually brought a stinging sensation to the back of his eyes.

          What had he done?  What had he done?

          _Aizawa-_

TBC- 

A/N: Well, how did everyone like Tatsuha's determination to get Ryuichi to notice him?  What about Ryuichi's flashback?  Was Yuji what you expected?  Honestly, I was worried about writing in the older Nakano because I'm not very aware of his personality, since he makes few appearances in the manga and none at all in the anime, but I think I did well.  O.o  Well, let me know.  ^_^ Wow, I guess I don't have much else to ramble about…that's strange!

Reviews:

**StarryEyedChick**: *bows* Yes, I know I'm evil.  Is it because I teased about the lemon later on?  ^_^ I suppose it is.  According to my beta reader, I'm a teasing whore.  Everyone should listen to her.  Yeah!  I got Eiri in character…which is difficult to do since the man must have at least three different personalities every time he turns around.  O.o  Awww, you feel sorry for Ryu-chan?  I suppose I'd be lying if I said that I didn't, but I suppose you must live with the choices you make, which Ryuichi is learning the difficult way.  Glad you liked the Tohma/Eiri interaction.  I couldn't write Tohma to save my life, and that's the truth; it's awful.  I hoped this chapter was to your liking, and I want more of **_What You Give_**!!  I love that fic to death!!

**Joan Mistress of Magic**: O.o Am I really that horrible of a teaser?  Well, then I suppose I should get shot.  Heh…I didn't mean it literally.  Was this fast enough for you?  Did you like this chapter?!

**Silverone**: ^_^ I dedicated the chapter to you because I know how much you like Tachi and Ryuichi.  Was it okay?  What's Yuki going to do to Shu?  Hmmm…wait and read.  Does Shuichi stay with Yuki or choose Hiro?  Which do you think he would do, considering the events, thus far, in the fic? (Oh, and I already know the answer to this, by the way. :P)  What's Ryuichi going to do?  Well, he pretty much did what he was going to do, but I can promise a little bit of Ryu*Tohma interaction…*evil grin* *wink*

**Lara**: Thank you!  Thank you! I am aware of just how evil I am.  I'm glad you approve.  Heh, I left the end of chapter eight that way for a reason, and Ryuichi was crying, well, because seeing Eiri and Shu together _really_ upset him.  O.o  He realized just how much he missed his precious Ai-chan.  ^_^ Oh, and I hope I stay the best, too.

**Punky Girl and Emerald wind**: Yes, it was an evil cliffhanger, wasn't it?  Heh, sorry to say this, but if I leave another cliffhanger *cough* next chapter *cough* then I'm sure you will hate me even more.  This one wasn't as bad, I admit.  Hope it was okay!

**EternalDreamLand**:*dances* Hurray!  You reviewed!  I'm glad you've been following my story, though.  Is everything to your liking?  Do I have any of the characters out of character?  Is the plot okay?  As you can probably tell, I'm really insecure.  O.o  Don't worry about being lazy…JUST REVIEW!  LOL.  *bows* Thank you!

**Mirai Aria:** Don't worry, Aria, I wasn't waiting for you, though I'm flattered that you think I was.  I'm just lazy…and a teasing whore, or so Pat San says.  I suppose she's right.  *shrug* Alas, I know…the chapters don't hold as much as they did, but I promise that it will get better.  I'm just trying to build it up for the heartbreak and love triangle –er- square –er- straight line?  thing that's going to happen.  SHHH!  It's a secret!!  ^_^ Oh, Shu didn't do anything to really trigger Ryu's outburst.  It was basically the entire "lovey-dovey" scene going on between him and Eiri that made him upset.  You would be, too, ne?  Oh, oh…don't you just love surprises?  You want to know what's going to happen when Eiri finds out?  Want to know another secret?  What if he _never_ finds out?  *gasp* I better shut up…no more outta me.  Hope this chapter had a little more in it for you!  ^_^

**Lilyleia**: Though you only got to chapter two, I'm glad you're enjoying this!  Tragically, TOOG is going ever so slowly, and my beta is just trying to make me write more so she can get her "dirty" little fingers on it before anyone else.  LOL.  Well, I hope when you get back from your little trip that you'll read and review.  I always love to hear what others have to say…good, bad, the slightly weird and paranormal…*blush* Wonderfully written?  TOOG?  THANK YOU!  *glomp* I feel honored.  The phrases?  Yes, my beta loves some of them, too.  She gets jealous sometimes, but I'm practically green because of the success she's getting, but I'm glad for her!!  ^_^  Tatsuha and Ryuichi's relationship?  Wouldn't everyone just love to know what I'm going to do with that?  Heh…

**Naeda**: Shame, shame, Nae-chan.  ^_^  LOL.  I'm glad you like my writing!  It means so much to me that people like it!  It really does.  Don't let people get you down, either.  You're turning out to be an awesome writer!!

**Black Dios**: Ah, I always love the reviews you leave!  They make me all bubbly and laughable inside.  Eh, does that make sense?  Probably not.  *nods* Yes, I agree.  Pat San is being naughty because she hasn't updated, but don't worry!  As her beta, I am officially compelled each day to poke her about giving me chapter 10 so I can beta it!  I've read some, and it's going to blow everyone out of the water!  ^_^ Now, don't fight with Red Moon, either…eh, well, she disappeared into the Swirling Vortex of DOOM.  Nevermind.  ^_~

**Aiko-chan**: *glomp* I feel honored that you reviewed, and yes, I believe _Mending Hearts_ is totally awesome.  I hate you for the pure, simple fact that you can write Tohma and I can't.  *cries* I love you, girl!  Keep up the awesome work, and I want chapter three!!

O.o Woah…that was a lot of answers.  LOL.  Everyone has so many questions, and I wish I could answer them ALL, but where would the fun in reading the fic be? Heh, I'm just a teasing whore…please ignore me.  Anyway, as always, my last shout out goes to by super-talented, should-be-worshipped, already has a shrine to her, beta reader, **Pat San**.  Dammit, Pat-chan, you make me feel so insignificant, but that's okay.  You're gracing all of us with your totally excellent writing skills, and I'm sure everyone has already gone and read **Hierarchies, of Games and Tables **that's on www.gurabiteshiyon.net.  ^_^  If you're a Tohma*Shu lover, you will definitely want to read this fic.  It is SUPERB!  Kudos to you, my lovable beta reader, you are amazing!  Love you lots!!

Okay, now that I'm done with that, how about a teaser for the next chapter?  Yes, the teasing whore has struck again.  Here:

_He didn't want Eiri threatening to do harmful things to Hiro before he'd even had a chance to talk with the guitarist first, and Shuichi was desperate to know what was on Hiro's mind._

_          Why had he done that to him?  More importantly, why had Shuichi let him?  He shyly peeked over at the writer through strands of pink, nearly pouting.  _

_          "Naa, Yuki-" Blazing golden eyes stabbed into his gaze before flickering back to the road._

_          "Quiet." A think silence floated over the interior of the foreign vehicle after that, leaving the singer feeling even worse than he already did. He didn't want Eiri threatening to do harmful things to Hiro before he'd even had a chance to talk with the guitarist first, and Shuichi was desperate to know what was on Hiro's mind._

Oh, and just for **StarryEyedChick** (and all of those that are curious):

"Shu-" His tongue began tracing a hot path across Hiro's lips, momentarily flicking inside his gaping mouth to taste the plain toothpaste on his breath, and the vocalist moaned, incapable of curbing the fervor eating him alive.  The guitarist tried speaking, wanting to get the savory, strawberry-smelling youth off of him –Shuichi wasn't in his right mind, and he couldn't take advantage of this situation- but his arms were banding around Shuichi's back instead of pushing him away, and his fingers were sliding up his sides, caressing the warm, fragrant skin he so desperately craved to stroke.

Well, I'm evil, and I'm proud to admit. ^_^

REVIEW!!****


	10. Secrets In The Dark

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing 

Warnings: uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.

Author's Note: HURRAY!  I actually didn't disappear, if anyone's interested in knowing why I haven't updated in FOREVER!  LOL.  Actually, I've been a very busy Dai-chan, and if anyone hasn't read my birthday fic for Pato called **_Fear of Infinity_**, then please do!  It'll really throw you for a loop and then some.  The pairing?  I guess I can tell, now, since it's posted.  Tohma and Yuki *gasp*  ^_^ Did I mention that it was smut, too?  Haha, anyway, I'll ramble at the end, like I always do, so sit back and enjoy the heartbreak that has become Shuichi's and Yuki's life! 

Track Ten: Secrets in the Dark 

        Shuichi sank further into the passenger-side seat of Eiri's car, the seatbelt stopping him from completely ending up on the floor.  His thoughts were erratic, torn between the loyalty to his friend and to his lover, and for some unexplained reason, his heart said he was a betrayer.  He'd left Hiro in that confining prison of plump nurses and their dreaded plastic cup of medication, kept company by a brother he had not seen or heard from since they'd graduated high school, and his chest was throbbing in rhythm with the pain he felt coursing through his entire body.  The blonde-haired man lounging stoically behind the wheel as he drove hadn't been any help, either.  Eiri had practically dragged him out of the room after Yuji had introduced himself, explaining that he was staying with his younger brother until his parents could arrange to visit him, and Shuichi hadn't gotten to protest.  In truth, he still hadn't told the novelist what had happened backstage at the concert, and he wasn't sure he could force himself to.  He didn't want Eiri threatening to do harmful things to Hiro before he'd even had a chance to talk with the guitarist first, and Shuichi was desperate to know what was on Hiro's mind.

        Why had he done _that_ to him?  More importantly, why had Shuichi let him?  He shyly peeked over at the writer through strands of pink, nearly pouting.  

        "Naa, Yuki-" Blazing golden eyes stabbed into his gaze before flickering back to the road.

        "Quiet." A think silence floated over the interior of the foreign vehicle after that, leaving the singer feeling even worse than he already did.  Long ago, he'd convinced himself that Eiri did love him, his persistence at trying to prove the act without actually saying anything was endearing, but Shuichi really wondered sometimes.  

What did his lover see in him? 

He could be too protective, he had to make sure _his_ Yuki took care of himself properly –ate the right things, dressed warmly when it was cold- and he was constantly told how annoying and needy he was by his friends; even his lover had commented about those particular traits, but he could not understand.  What good qualities did he have?  He sang moderately well, no where near the level of Sakuma Ryuichi's mysterious talent but enough to drive fans crazy, and he was cute –why was pink hair such a turn-on?- but none of that was satisfactory.  Hiro had never expressed what it was that made the singer a great companion, or why he dealt with his stupidity, but the general feeling of care and trust was there; Shuichi's stomach always twisted when he caught Hiro staring at him and smiled back.  But...

Why did Yuki love him?

Did he even _like_ him?

Shuichi nervously bit his lip, sniffling to rid himself of the remainder of tears gluing his eyelashes together, and he snuck another glance at the silent author.  What was going on in his mind?

Was he mad?  It seemed that he was almost all of the time except when he made love to him, but even then he was partially removed.

Was he going to punish him?  

Shuichi thought about _that_ for a moment and instantly decided to ignore the question completely.  His imagination was too elaborate, and bringing a tyrant-like Yuki Eiri into his dreams was bound to be worse than the loving Yuki Eiri who had tied him up and whipped him.  

"What are you muttering about, baka?" Violet eyes blinked at the novelist in surprise.  Had he been talking to himself?  Out loud?  

"Anou...n-nothing," he stammered, Eiri's perforating gaze wrapping its cold fingers around his heart and giving it a painful squeeze.  Shuichi could almost hear the words as easily as though the writer had spoken them himself, but he'd heard them so many times before that it was pointless to pay attention.  

_        "Baka."_

        "Baka," Eiri mumbled, his fingers slipping into the pocket of his jacket to skillfully withdraw a cigarette that he promptly slipped between his lips.

_        "You always say that."_

        "You always say that," he added sarcastically, almost as an after thought, and Shuichi couldn't help the feeling of insecurity washing over him.  Eiri was _so_ easy to predict, but the singer wouldn't have had it any other way.  He loved the stubborn, hardly-considerate author with every particle of his being, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would change the fact that he would fight for him, travel halfway across the world for him…die for him.

        He prayed that was true, anyway.  The incident with Hiro, who was supposed to be his _best friend_, was quickly diminishing the idealism in his brain that he and Eiri were meant to be together forever.  He didn't want that.  

        He didn't want that at all.

        "That's not true!" he exclaimed without warning, causing Eiri to jerk the car a little too hard to the left and nearly miss the turn he was going to make.  He straightened the vehicle immediately, pulling into the designated parking space close to their apartment, and once the ignition was off, he sucked the cigarette down until it was gone, angrily staring out the window without heeding the oddly blushing boy beside him.  Shuichi fiddled with the seatbelt, repeatedly fastening and unfastening it to occupy his mind, and the larger pale hand gripping his fingers unexpectedly almost made him scream in surprise.  Eiri brought the tips of his delicate digits to his lips, the remains of his first infatuation already neatly disposed of, and he ran his tongue over the tanned skin, loving the wide-eyed expression filtering across the singer's face.  "Y-Yuki?"  The novelist smirked smoothly before slipping the confining strap around Shuichi and tugging him forward, sprawling him on his lap, leaving him trapped between his chest and the steering wheel.  

        "Quiet," he whispered, more conviction in his voice than there had been the first time, and Eiri tilted Shuichi's chin up, his eyes fluttering shut as their lips interlocked, the savory taste of familiar strawberry flowing into his mouth.  The pink-haired vocalist stared in shock at the contour of Eiri's face, wondering what had possessed his lover to do something completely un-Eiri like, but his mind was too focused on enjoying this new form of affection to really think about that or anything else, and he leaned into the kiss, his hands moving up to grip the writer's shoulders.  Eiri pushed his tongue into Shuichi's mouth, wallowing in the soft moan emitting from the other's throat, and his fingers tightly clutched locks of silky magenta, driving the singer away from his mouth and into something hard behind him.  He was half-straddling the older man, and he slid his other leg over his thigh, their hip gliding perfectly into place.  Eiri groaned at Shuichi's weight pressing down him, and he reconnected their lips, biting at the soft flesh supplely moving beneath his own, teasing him.

        "Yuki…" His name flowed through Shuichi's vocal cords, sounding much huskier than the normal high-pitched tone of the single word, and the lithe singer ground their pelvises together, eyes shut tightly to relish the sensations flooding his body.  Eiri _always_ made him feel this way; when he was with him he felt vulnerable, elegant, and maybe a little more wanton than others would have thought, but Hiro had known.  The guitarist had felt his excitement, had perceived how restless he'd been in his arms without the feel of lips demanding entrance to his mouth, without hands pillaging his fragile skin, and the guilt was suddenly so overwhelming that Shuichi twisted back, the presence of tears already burning his eyes.  He stared into Eiri's usually impenetrable gaze, something virtually resembling sorrowful lust reflecting back at him, and Shuichi felt a tear slip down the side of his cheek.  

He couldn't do this.    

        "What-" The resonance of Eiri's incomplete question spread humiliation across his face, and Shuichi trembled fiercely, afraid to admit to himself what he was feeling.  He wanted to touch Eiri, to kiss him, to do those dark, forbidden things to him, but he was being denied the only thing he had ever truly wanted.  A sob was wedged in his throat, and he could feel his heart breaking into tiny pieces.

        "I…I can't," he stammered, blindly reaching for the handle of the door even as his brain filled with images of flowing crimson hair and hard, guitar-playing hands and not the golden, pale-skinned creature before him.  "G-gomen, Yuki…I-I can't…" And, he slid off of his lover's lap, gracefully slipping from within the vehicle before sprinting off into the surrounding darkness, his now audible cries echoing loudly in the empty garage.  Eiri stared after the singer, blinking in surprise at his sudden refusal –Shuichi had _never_ said no to him before- and he rested his head on the edge of the steering wheel, his vision becoming blurry with the thing he dreaded most.  He could not understand the vocalist anymore –not that he had really been able to in the first place- but Shuichi's ever-altering moods were actually frightening him.  

Would he end up losing what he'd finally found?  Eiri couldn't let that happen, but how was he to stop it?  What could he possibly _say_ or _do_ to make Shuichi realize that he did, in fact, love him?

He loved the annoying little singer and his crazy antics, but he couldn't prove it.

He loved his spunk and creativity and the cheerfulness that derived that strange laugh from his exquisite throat, but he couldn't tell him.

He loved him more than life itself, but he had never said a word about it.

He loved him.

He loved him…

        He was such a fool, and Eiri felt the solitary trail of a tear washing the skin of his face before a wave of involuntary crying cascaded down his cheeks.

*      *      *

        Yuji lounged in an uncomfortable hospital chair, aware of the time –it was beyond visiting hours, but he didn't care- and the slight wheezing breaths his brother made as he took small mouthfuls of air.  Hiro's countenance was ivory in the moonlight, much paler than it normally should have been, but the reassuring sounds of his quiet mutterings as he slept put the older Nakano at ease.  It was weird for him to be watching over his sibling like this, he had always thought Hiro was nearly indestructible –if someone told him no, he'd bounce back and prove he could- but the reality of life was too hard to actually contend with now.  He'd always wanted to be there for him, to show him things that older brothers would, but he had to grow up despite his claims of staying a child forever, and Hiro was walking proof that something could be made from nothing.  Hiro played guitar for a popular band, was stalked by thousands of crazy fans that desperately wanted him to at least acknowledge their presence, and had made his dream real.  Yuji was still trying to find what he was good at, but he'd learned to face the truth; he loved what he did and it didn't matter how famous _he_ was.  

        Had Hiro learned that lesson, too?

        "N-n-nuh…S-Shuichi…" Hiro moaned, almost turning onto his stomach in his fit of dreaming, but the subconscious will of his body knowing that it was in pain remained dominant, and he only twisted onto his side.  Tendrils of red tumbled over his neck and upper chest, veiling his features, and Yuji was instantly beside him, carefully checking over him for signs of further injury.  He almost laughed at his jumpiness a moment later, knowing that Hiro would have woken up if he'd been in pain, and he moved back towards his seat, thinking to rest a little before the time came to reacquaint himself with his stranger of a brother.  He hadn't talked him for a little over a year and…  "N-naa, S-Shuichi…I-I'm sorry…" Yuji's eyebrow arched in question at the words emitting from Hiro's mouth, and he only shook his head, quietly wondering what the other was fantasizing about.

        What did he have to be sorry for?

        But Yuji would _never_ know just how _truly_ sorry Hiro actually was.

TBC- 

Author's Note: *sobs* I know I'm evil!  I've had so many people tell me that that I've actually started believing it, but I do know that several of my faithful reviewers will hate me for the following things to come.  This is just the tip of the ice burg, everyone!  O.o LOL.  Anyway, how'd you like the interesting Yuki and Shu scene in the car?  Was it believable?  To be honest, I find it SO hard to writer Shuichi because he's one of those people that I cannot relate to very well.  He's energetic, fun, noisy, loud, endlessly talkative, and an enigma!  That's not in my writing files.  I can write Yuki (and supposedly Aizawa) but that's pretty much it.  .  I need help.  *laughs*

Reviews:

**Black Dios**: I'm glad Red Moon went bai-bai for a while!  Knowing me and my slowness at updating, she probably came back, though.  *sigh* Anyway, Track Nine was strange?  How so?  Really?  WOW!  Perhaps it was the Tatsuha thing?  He is difficult to write because he's just a loose cannon.  He's the complete opposite of Eiri, but he's not at all like Shu or Ryu.  O.o  Eh…wooden mallets and flame throwers?  Has Red Moon been hanging out with K?

**StarryEyedChick**: HURRAY!  My faithful reviewer!  *glomp* You love Ayaka?  LOL.  To each his (or her) own, but personally, I don't like her.  I could get into a long debate as to why, but that would take up too much space and be rather redundant.  -_-  I think I did good, considering that I didn't bash her into the ground, ne?  ^_^  YEAH!  Tatsuha scene a success!  You wouldn't believe how difficult he is to write and get right.  .  It's just insane, and besides that, I have to keep in mind that he's a teenage _boy_, too.  How am I supposed to know what teenage boys think?  I'm not one, so it's hard. LOL.  Ah, yes, Ryuichi and Yuji.  For some reason, as I wrote that, I thought 'I need someone that Ryu might "know" but not know know,' and he popped into his head.  You've gotta love the man, even if he isn't given enough credit!  He's Hiro's _older_ brother!  What more could you ask for?  ^_~  Oh, and I'm sure Ryu would appreciate the comfort, but Aizawa…ah, my Ai-chan.  So many bad things have happened to him.  I think TOOG is going to become one of those sympathy fics…not to mention a huge Shuichi*Hiro *cough* Hurry up with WYG!  Must read…*dies* Eh…

**Silverone**: Yep, dedicated to you!  Did you like it?  Was it good?  I thought you'd like it because it had Aizawa and Ryuichi, my two favorite bunnies!  *glomps them*  And, aren't you just dying to know why Aizawa had a pink dress in his closet?  LOL.  That makes for a very good one shot idea, ne?  *thinks evil thoughts*  Oh, just one more question.  Why is Hiro running for his life, exactly?  *laughs*

**EternalDreamLand**: *blushes* WOW!  I've never received so much praise in one sentence before.  Thank you!  I'm glad that you're enjoying this so far.  It's rather difficult to write something that will please a large amount of Gravi fans, and despite the fact that I know I'm supposed to be writing it for myself, I can't help but keep my readers in mind when I write.  I'm also relieved to hear that the characters are in character.  I hate it when characters are OOC, unless it's an AU, but even then I have preferences.  *sigh* I'm just too hard to please, ne?  Well, I hope this chapter suited you!!  ^__^

**CJ-Chan**: NO!  Don't cry because of what happened to Ryuichi!  *sobs* I know this is sad (well, it's angst, how can it not be?) but I promise things will work out for him.  No worries!  ^_~  I know this had nothing to do with Ryuichi, but the next track will answer some questions and really make you wonder about Ryu-chan's sanity.  O.o  SHHHH!  It's a secret!

**Lara:** *bows* I know I'm evil, and I'm happy that you agree.  *huggle* I'm sorry it took so long to update.  You can punish me if you like.  I've been very busy, though it's not an excuse.  I finished Pato's fic for her birthday, posted that, and decided that it was definitely past time to update this.  I keep ahead with my chapters so that I don't fall behind, though I am suffering a little.  I'm only working on Track Thirteen right now, but Track Twelve took A LOT of effort.  .  So hard to write something like _that_. Oops…Dai-chan's giving away things.  I better be quiet.  Hope you liked this one!  

**Nerdygurl-1707**: ^_^  Thank you!!  You're jealous tha I know Pato, Silverone, and Aiko-chan?  LOL.  Email them!  They're all really nice, and they talk to just about anyone, LOL.  AWW!  *glomp* I'm someone that should get reviews?  THANK YOU!  You're too kind!  Continue the good work?  No problem…the only actually thing I'll have difficulty with is finishing this.  *gasp* I even have ideas for a sequel to this, thought people will murder me.  *cries* I'm glad you are willing to support me!  *huggles*

**Phoenix51**: Should I give you two answers since you gave me two reviews?  LOL.  I know I'm evil, thank you for pointing that out!  ^_~  *blushes* I'm a fantastic writer?  Thank you so much!  WOW!  I've gotten so much praise that I'm afraid it's going to go to my head, and then I won't be able to write anything good ever again.  I don't want that to happen.  Oh, and welcome to the wonderful world of TOOG!  I'm so glad I've gotten new readers!  I hope this track was enough for you, though I thought it was a bit short.  The next one will be MUCH longer and much more intriguing!  *grins*

**Aiko**: NAH!  *glomp* Thank you SO much for reviewing!  You know I'm going to love you forever because you're my best friend!  Oh, and there's nothing wrong with hoping!  Hope all you want!  Remember, JJ still hopes that Dee will be his someday.  *grin* No worries there.  **_Mending Hearts_** is definitely awesome, and your Yuki*Shu scene is to *drool* DIE for!  How do you do it?  WAHOO!  Five cheers for Ryu and Taki!  My precious bunnies!  *huggles* HITS!  SETWR!  Subaru has strange fantasies, LMAO.  ^__^

**Mirai Aira**: Heh, I know you didn't review, but I have a feeling you read Track Nine.  :P  Anyway, just wanted to say, hurry up with _Yuki15_!!!!  I can't take the anticipation.  You are even worse than I am!  *cries* Aria…can't…take it… *dies* Eh, you killed me.  :P

Oh, and of course, how can I forget my lovely beta reader?  *glomp* I'm going to go worship Pato now, and make sure she doesn't say she can't write.  Damn.  She does an even better job than I do!  You can't deny it!  *huggles* Happy Late Birthday, Pat-chan!  ^__^  Remember, Dai loves you!!

_Next Chapter:_

"Come on," Ryuichi murmured, his eyes dark with hidden secrets and shimmering with un-spilt tears.  "Let's have fun…Tohma…" The disbelief washing over the blonde-haired man was almost enough to stop his heart.  There was a brief pause before the vocalist lunged at Tohma, knocking them both onto the linoleum tiles of the cold hospital floor.  Ryuichi stared down at him, his slim legs straddling Tohma's hips, and the singer's arms captured his head in a cage, leaving him a prisoner to the other's administrations.  Tohma could feel his pulse pounding rapidly in his ears, and his mouth was suddenly dry.  Thoughts of Mika, the woman he shared his life with, the one he was _married_ to, temporarily surfaced, but Ryuichi instantly made them vanish when he leaned down -blue eyes as black as his pupils- and kissed his mouth with fervor.

_And, for the Taki lovers:_ (*heart eyes*)

Ma wrapped his arms around Aizawa's neck, pulling him into a hug, and the queasiness radiating from the center of his abdomen instantly vanished, the mixture of scents that were distinctly Ma's embracing his senses in a calm pool of void.  Aizawa sagged into the warmth, his trembling fingers slithering up to twist in Ma's golden tresses, and Ma returned the gesture by running his hands gently back and forth across the disheveled material of the jacket Aizawa wore, trying to put him at ease.

"Tachi," Ma murmured into his ear. "You don't have to be afraid."

"I-I'm not." But, he was.  His heart ached with an impossible stab of betrayal, chilling the core of his existence with frosty hatred, and Aizawa couldn't distinguish his sick, twisted fantasy from reality anymore. His band had shattered as easily as glass, falling apart without the support of a demonic producer disguised behind a golden halo of false promises, and his lover, his beloved bunny with sparkling sapphire eyes, no longer existed to him.  Aizawa wanted to claim them again, cradle them against his chest and never let them go, but he had no choice.  He was living the life of someone else, now, not that of Tachi Aizawa.

Okay, we can all cry for my Taki now.  *sobs* :P  I'm evil, I know.  I hope this warrants some extra nice long reviews!  *nudge nudge* *wink wink*

Oh, and before I forget…I've been on a major writing spree as of late, and I would love to do a "surprise" gift fic-slash-one shot for someone.  Plus, I got 100 REVIEWS, so I have to reward everyone somehow!!  ^_^  

Requirements (to win…haha, it's not a contest, but *shrug*): 

Choose a pairing from Gravi, preferably a yaoi one. _If someone wants a non-Gravi yaoi fic then get in touch with me to find out if I even know the anime the pairing is from!  I'll go from there…_

Explain (in pretty details) why they are your favorite, and what a good one shot must include, in your opinion.  There are no right or wrong answers!

It's not hard, ne?  Or, did I make it too hard??  *grins* And, to make it fairer, I'll have my lovely beta help me decide which deserves a fic.  LOL.  ^_^ Oh, and did I mention it was going to be smut?  *laughs* I've been on a smut spree…though I haven't read much these days.  Eh…also, I don't discriminate so that means anything goes!  ^_^_ If you don't feel comfortable leaving anything like that in a review (but you really want a fic) then email it to me!_

I wonder who will be the lucky winner?  *shrug* Does anyone even want me to write a gift fic for them?  Probably not…*sad sigh*

PLEASE REVIEW!!


	11. It Becomes Them

Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing. 

Warnings: lime, lime, fluffy stuff, lime, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, lime, indicated pairings, lime, other stuff I didn't mention, and lime

Author's Note: OMG! I apologize for being gone SO long. sweatdrop School's quickly approaching the end, and I've been caught up in the middle of it. sigh I assure you that I haven't forgotten about this fic…I'm far from that, in fact. grins Anyways, a couple things before my obviously infamous rambles at the end of the track: (1) This track is not beta-ed b/c my beta has been very busy as well, and (2) I boosted the rating! O Yep…that's right, ladies and gentlemen! This fic is no longer readable by those 13 and younger…though I'm sure some of you will continue to read despite that hindrance. I don't have a problem with that, but let me say this: _those that read something they do not like **have been warned**_. With that said, enjoy this track!

Dedicated to those who so love Tohma and Ryuichi smile

Track Eleven: It Becomes Them

Yuji was gone, having drifted down the empty hallway in search of his brother's room, and Tohma was on his knees beside Ryuichi, delicate fingers rubbing at the glistening tears marring his pretty features, trying to erase them from existence. The singer moaned into the touch, his heart rupturing as a flood of painful memories broke over the heavy wall erected around his fragile soul, and he wrapped his arms around the other's neck, sobbing loudly against Tohma's throat, coating his alabaster skin with hot tears. The older man quietly held Ryuichi without question, his teeth biting his tongue into silence, and the legendary pop-star nuzzled his nose along the indention between Tohma's jaw and his ear, his wet mouth leaving a glossy residue of saliva in its wake. A shudder ran up the producer's spine, momentarily causing his brain to refrain from thinking any rational thought, and he abruptly pulled back to stare at his partner, his friend, when the nip of teeth broke the surface of his flesh and something moist soothed the bruised spot.

"R-Ryuichi-san…" Watery eyes treading with forbidden thoughts –and still soaked thoroughly with tears- gazed through him, making Tohma shiver unintentionally.

What was _wrong_ with him?

"Tohma." It was that haunting voice that spoke to him, not the tiny, frightened, and sometimes childish one that gave Ryuichi his genki and lovable individuality, and Tohma became afraid. Nothing good ever came from Ryuichi's switch of personalities. How could anyone not know of this dilemma other than himself? There were two Ryuichis: one existed as an innocent, kawaii bundle of flowers, hearts, and chocolate kisses over a huggable stuffed bunny, but the other was different. He was death and angst and the pain of a thousand lifetimes congealed into the same body, always fighting for a chance to be free. Tohma shoved against Ryuichi's chest, propelling him back into the plastic casing of the vending machine behind them.

"Ryuichi-san…" Tohma felt something tight forming in his throat, blocking the passage of his vocal cords, and he found himself choking on his words, unable to express what it was that he felt. Ryuichi had been the enigma of Nittle Grasper –he'd even invented the name of their elusive band- and he had been the soul performer of their concerts, always drawing in a crowd. Tohma could remember quite clearly the moments when he was drunk enough on the euphoria of playing the keyboard with Noriko-san and feeding on the energy of the audience to end up making out with the singer on stage. Particularly one event stood out in his mind, hot flashes of lips and clothes falling to the ground in a whirl of anonymous faces, but he did not want to recall _that_. He could feel a blush coming onto his face, and Tohma wondered what it was about Ryuichi that _always_ made him act improper and wild with abandon.

"Come on, Ryuichi murmured, his eyes dark with hidden secrets and shimmering with un-spilt tears. "Let's have fun…Tohma…" The disbelief washing over the blonde-haired man was almost enough to stop his heart.

Fun?

Where had his beloved Ryuichi gone?

"Ryuichi-san, I know-"

"Iie. You don't. You don't know." There was a brief pause before the vocalist lunged at Tohma, knocking them both onto the linoleum tiles of the cold hospital floor. Ryuichi stared down at him, his slim legs straddling Tohma's hips, and the singer's arms captured his head in a cage, leaving him a prisoner to the other's administrations. Tohma could feel his pulse pounding rapidly in his ears, and his mouth was suddenly dry. Thoughts of Mika, the woman he shared his life with, the one he was _married_ to, temporarily surfaced, but Ryuichi instantly made them vanish when he leaned down -blue eyes as black as his pupils- and kissed his mouth with fervor. Slender hands twined themselves into his hair, nearly tugging strands of it from his scalp, and Tohma gasped against Ryuichi as his full weight settled onto him, pressing his body completely flat. Avid fingers stroked his chest through the white button-down shirt he wore, pausing effectively over the faint outline of his nipple, and Tohma was lost against his will, unable to fabricate reality from this dream of desiring men when he belonged to a woman, one who duplicated the image of another in his mind, one he could not grasp no matter how hard he tried. A blush stained his cheeks, and Tohma found himself caught up in the moment and the memories, unable to let go.

_"Kowasu you ni…" Ryuichi threw his arms up, wallowing in the fanatic scream of the crowd as the ending words of "Sleepless Beauty" ricocheted across the enormous arena, his microphone forgotten while he skipped around the stage, adrenaline pumping into his veins. Tohma and Noriko were still at their keyboards, enthusiastically pounding on the keys to drag out the ending of the song, and Noriko tossed locks of sweat-dampened hair behind her in a flash of violet, a smile drawing across her lips as Ryuichi bounced beside Tohma, his hands tugging him away from his instrument. She continued the addicting rhythm of the song, slowly fading into something extremely upbeat and lively that did not have the need for Ryuichi's hypnotic voice, and Tohma found himself swept away by the other man's powerful aura, unable to stop himself from willingly complying with his movements. _

_Ryuichi's mouth was on his own, his slick tongue teasing Tohma's with mischievous effort, and the scream of the crowd was forgotten, lost in the throng of wanton thoughts as his hands reached inside the half-closed jacket to stroke the moist skin of Tohma's torso, extracting a partial moan from his throat…_

Tohma's eyes flew open, and he panted, fingers pushing at Ryuichi to get him to stop. He couldn't do this –and certainly not in a place such as this.

What would people think of him if they knew?

What would Mika do?

What would Eiri say?

"Ryuichi-" It was a plea, and the soul buried deep within the unbreakable barrier of the other Ryuichi remained solid, almost flaunting his strength.

"You like this…I know you like this…don't deny what _I_ know is true…" He bent down to kiss him again, his hips rolling against Tohma's, and the producer bit back a moan even as he thrust his weight against him, knocking him to the ground.

"I-I'm not…I'm not-" Who did Ryuichi think he was? The singer's attraction to him was only mutual, there had never been anything very sexual between them, and the identity of Ryuichi's obvious obsession eluded him at the moment. Tohma sat up, wiping a trail of saliva off of his cheek and throat before rearranging his clothes –the first couple of buttons had come undone- and trying to recompose himself. Ryuichi lay face down a few feet away, his shoulders shaking, and at first, Tohma thought he was crying, but a snicker escaped his mouth as he lifted his face to stare at the other, a gruesome smile gazing back at him, complete with tears streaming down his cheeks. _Ryuichi was laughing_. "R-Ryuichi-san…"

"You were always the funny one," he muttered, rubbing at the salty stains streaking his skin before glaring at him, contempt in his liquid gaze; it was like looking directly into the depths of purgatory. "Always too wrapped up in yourself…too important to care about us…why did you have to interfere?! Couldn't you have left him alone?!" Tohma blinked at the stranger in front of him, so afraid of the bizarre sparkle in Ryuichi's narrowed orbs of empty blue that he began to shake.

"I-"

"He didn't deserve your judgment…you're not god! You're…YOU'RE NOT ANYTHING!!"

"Ryuichi-san, what are you talking-"

"Don't play stupid," he interjected harshly, his fists clenching in his hair as if he would rip it out at any moment. "Don't act as if you don't know! Everyone's allowed to be happy but me…even that bastard writer has more than I…n-no…STOP IT!" The singer gripped his head, eyes squeezing shut as pain filtered over his vivid features, and Tohma staggered to his feet, his back to the wall even as he watched Ryuichi struggle inside his mind. It looked as though he was fighting with himself, the power of his more-dominating side trying to erase the spirit that everyone loved about him, and Tohma took a brave step forward, his hand reaching out towards him. His heart beat furiously, and he was afraid to interact with him in any way, but Ryuichi suffered, and he wanted…no, he _needed_ to help him. Arms suddenly clung to his waist before he could blink, and Ryuichi sobbed into his chest, soaking his pristine shirt with once withheld tears. "F-forgive me…gomen nasai, Tohma…Tohma…" Tohma rubbed Ryuichi's back, a serene expression replacing the terrified grimace that had once been on his face, and he smiled gently, the innocent angel reverting back to the hidden demon that he truly was.

"Daijoubu desu-ka, Ryuichi-san. I understand…"

But in reality, he didn't.

_"You like this…don't deny what I know is true…"_ Who was he talking about? It certainly wasn't him.

_"Why did you have to interfere?"_ In what?

_"He didn't deserve your judgment…"_ Again, who was this person that Ryuichi felt so strongly for? He hadn't been seeing anyone that Tohma knew of, had no relationships to speak of.

_"Don't act as if you don't know!"_ Tohma massaged the tense muscles in Ryuichi's shoulders and sighed wearily, his brain suddenly tired. He couldn't act if he _really_ didn't know, and he had a feeling that the singer's secret was going to tear him apart until nothing remained of his affable and honest soul.

Tohma could **not** let that happen, and he would fight to make sure Ryuichi remained safe.

He _was_ god…

Aizawa staggered from the bathroom a good hour and a half later, his blurred and burning vision adjusting itself to the dimness of the light in the living space of Ma and Ken's apartment. The blonde guitarist was curled up beside the other member of ASK, strands of his lustrous hair shielding Ken's face from the blinding luminosity of a single standing lamp in the corner. Aizawa didn't know what time it was, the shades were drawn together to block out the image of day –or night- and the sour taste of stale vomit in his mouth made his stomach churn each time he swallowed. His feet refused to cooperate, and the former vocalist found himself glued to the carpet, unable to pull his gaze away from the scene before him. Ken shifted in his sleep, his head sliding down Ma's chest to nestle comfortably in his lap, and Ma's eyes slowly blinked open because of the unexpected weight pressing against his pelvis, a slow smile curving his lips at the sight of the other man staring at them in confusion. Aizawa tried speaking, but his voice was sore, and his throat ached with the pain of withheld sobs.

"Ken-chan couldn't sleep," Ma whispered almost shyly, and he carefully slipped from the loose embrace, making sure Ken was still asleep before moving towards Aizawa. "How…how are you feeling?"

"Fine…I think…" Aizawa peered around the small room, remnants of pizza and its box making him nauseous. "I-I changed my mind. I think I'm going to-" Ma wrapped his arms around Aizawa's neck, pulling him into a hug, and the queasiness radiating from the center of his abdomen instantly vanished, the mixture of scents that were distinctly Ma's embracing his senses in a calm pool of void. Aizawa sagged into the warmth, his trembling fingers slithering up to twist in Ma's golden tresses, and Ma returned the gesture by running his hands gently back and forth across the disheveled material of the jacket Aizawa wore, trying to put him at ease. He had to understand that someone _did_ care for him and that he was not alone. He and Ken stood behind him with faith, always accepting his faults and never questioning his motives –not even when he had destroyed their band by hurting someone else- but Aizawa was obviously blind to the fact that there were people who loved him, ached with him, and even suffered for him.

"Tachi," Ma murmured into his ear, nuzzling his nose along a delicate fold of flesh. "You don't have to be afraid."

"I-I'm not." But, he was. His heart ached with an impossible stab of betrayal, chilling the core of his existence with frosty hatred, and Aizawa couldn't distinguish his sick, twisted fantasy from reality anymore. He had wanted it to be a show of his strength, of his superiority over a couple of pre-pubescent _immature_ boys, but it had altered into something disgusting, it had gotten out of control, and he had lost the two most important things he'd ever cherished in his life to greed and corruption. His band had shattered as easily as glass, falling apart without the support of a demonic producer disguised behind a golden halo of false promises, and his lover, his beloved bunny with sparkling sapphire eyes, no longer existed to him. Aizawa wanted to claim them again, cradle them against his chest and never let them go, but he had no choice. He was living the life of someone else, now, not that of Tachi Aizawa.

"Don't lie…Aizawa." His body shivered at the syllables of his name leaving Ma's mouth, and the unexpected pressure of warmth sliding against his lips and over his tongue immobilized his senses. Ma was kissing him, and he was good at it, too. Aizawa felt himself slipping, his hands gripping Ma's shoulders tightly as he tripped directly into a floating, non-existent world, and he was pushing back, his teeth tearing sensitive flesh in a haste to feel welcomed into the circle he'd involuntarily left. Ma moaned something unintelligible, his chest melding against Aizawa's as they staggered into the wall, mouths frantically moving and fingers delicately exploring through barriers of clothing. Ma was demanding, his hips trapping Aizawa's between himself and cheap plaster, and he took control of the situation, his aggressive, nearly dominate behavior over-powering the other with less the fraction of strength than it normally would have taken. Aizawa didn't care anymore, his body was craving any type of affection it could get, and his mind had already started playing tricks on him.

Ma's blonde hair was fading into a darker shade, rapidly growing shorter and more luminescent with each passing second, and Aizawa shut his eyes against the illusion, knowing who was really doing this to him but pretending that it was another. Ryuichi whispered into his mouth, nibbling delicately at his lips, and his inquisitive fingers were hastily undoing the fastening to his belt, trying to get inside. His lover had never been so forceful before, not even when he'd gotten upset over the most trifle things and Aizawa had attempted to make him feel better, but this was a new, different side to things, one Aizawa didn't think he could handle. Ryuichi forcefully pried his lips open even as his hand slithered inside his pants, and Aizawa tilted his head back, his tongue fiercely dueling with the tongue invading his mouth as he angled his pelvis up, bucking his weight against the flesh fondling him.

"Ah…don't stop…don't…" Aizawa shuddered violently, his legs trembling to the point where he could no longer support himself, and they slide onto the floor, their bodies pooling into a mass of tangled limbs and rumpled clothes. A hoarse gasp rang loudly in his ear.

"I-I shouldn't be doing this…because of Ken…" A pause filled with the sound of his own heart beating frantically against his ribs rang inside his head. "But…I love you, Tachi." Aizawa's eyes flashed open in literal shock, his consciousness dissolving back into his brain, and Ma's flushed face stared back at him, the presence of his slim digits firmly grasping his member condemning him further into sin.

"I-"

"So does Ken," Ma continued, unaware that Aizawa was slowly withdrawing from the conversation, guilty with conviction. "We both love you, Tachi. Ever since-"

"Please…be quiet," he stammered painfully, the expanse of his chest finally rupturing with agony. He was a sinner, a murderer, the thief of his own lost dreams. "I-I can't…I can't…I thought I could, but I can't." Tears were rolling thickly down his cheeks.

"Don't cry, Tachi. It's not your fault."

"But it is…it's _all_ my fault…I did it. I did everything, and I never wanted to h-hurt anyone. I don't hurt people, Ma-kun, I don't. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with ME?" Aizawa broke into a wave of fitful sobs, his red eyes leaking down the side of his face, and Ma gathered him into an embrace, his desire already gone. All he could do was hold him and wonder –wonder what Tachi had done, wonder why he had disappeared for so long, wonder an answer to his question- but it all remained a mystery. Ma didn't know, and Aizawa was breaking inside because of it.

He tasted his friend's tears and hugged him closer, lost in a world of destruction's devise.

TBC-

A/N: gasp Where did that come from? Hmm…I know some people will think Tachi is a whore or something along those lines b/c he almost did _that_ with Ma-kun, but he's just confused. Obviously, ne? He thought it was Ryuichi. . sigh I really need to get my head out of dreamland. LOL. Life's not like that…it's horrid and cruel. :P Ah, so, anyway, what about Ryuichi and Tohma in the hospital? O.O I'm guessing this was your reaction, ne? Yeah, I was pretty surprised I wrote that myself. Poor Ryu-kun has mental issues that obviously need to be addressed…if I could understand his character a little more, I would consider writing a Ryuichi-centric fic, but I'm _too_ busy for that right now. sigh Yeah…

Reviews:

**StarryEyedChick**: WOOT! I'm glad you liked the last chapter! You actually felt sorry for Yuki? O LOL. Yeah, the entire thing with Shuichi and the seat belt was completely off the top of my head! I could actually see him sliding under it until he was on the floor laughs NYAH! Indestructible Hiro was a surprise, but that was the impression I got when reading the manga and how he and Yuji interacted with one another. shrug Old news, though, I suppose. Mmm…about the one-shot fic thing I was planning to write…currently on-hold due to lack of ideas, but I will eventually write one for you! Hiro and Shuichi are so kawaii together…considering that I've been reading WYG, and that TOOG has turned out to be a ShuHiro. SHH! That was supposed to be a secret. I'll see what I can do about pulling off a what-if with them. That would be so cool!! glomp And…I want more WYG! begs

**Silverone**: LOL. You are SO worried about Hiro-kun dying, aren't you? Don't worry…he won't die…in this one. LMAO. :P Kidding…actually, Hiro's death was never planned at all so you should have nothing to worry about! blush And, I write Shuichi's and Yuki's angst well? THANK YOU! Heh…I've been told that I am a master at writing Yuki…but when it comes to Shuichi…well, I might as well quit. . As for Ryuichi and Tachi sleeping with other people…well, you read the conclusion to that, ne? Some pretty intense stuff, too. ACK! I can't believe I wrote that…bad, Dai-chan, bad! About the Tachi/Ken thing (which was _very_ different and unusual by the way)…I will also be writing a one-shot for that, too…though I don't know what, yet. I know…I'm awful…but I promise that you and StarryEyedChick will receive one-shots…not matter how short they are. -- LOL. Maybe they won't be smut and actually have a semi-decent plot, too. O Hope you liked this chapter!! And, you are completely inspiring me to write a Shu/Tachi. LOL. Love it!

**Ish**: WOOT! Seme Ryuichi…never really thought about it before, but dammit…that's something to really think about, ne? LMAO. True…Tatsuha does need more screen time. Don't worry! He will be making many appearances soon. He's needed for the nasty little plot twist I have decided to use him for. evil grin Did you think I forgot what happened in track two? Hehe! Don't feel bad, either. Considering that I know what I'm writing… I hope you don't start cheering for Yuki. grimaces abuses self for giving away parts of plot

**Lara**: Uh oh…I have a feeling I'm going to get chewed out b/c it took me so long to update this time. hides I'm sorry. State testing and junk…I'm only 17 after all…and still in high school. sigh Anyway, I'm glad the last track was worth the wait, and I truly hope that this one was as well. -- I'm such a baka sometimes…I continue to write on this (up to chapter 14 now!!), and I forget to update. Eh…very bad!! I'm terribly sorry if you wanted me to email you, and I didn't. I'm even twice as awful as before. sigh What am I going to do with myself? LMAO. Well, I'm glad that you think I'm a great writer! It means a lot to me! Oh…and I was curious…do you write fanfiction?? NYAH! Hope you liked this chapter!!

**Phoenix51**: WAI! Thank you so much! Putting detail into stories is something I have a knack for…and sometimes I put too much. O.o Heh…gotta work on that! I just hope that you continue to read and like it! gives candy

**Black Dios**: Eh…RM and K…shooting together? That's just terribly scary. I don't think I want to mention it again. sigh LOL. Yeah, I think Tatsuha-kun is definitely one hard character to portray right (I wouldn't know about role-playing, though). . He can be dreadfully confusing. Anyway, I hope you liked this one. Characters that didn't get much screen time in the anime always seem to be the ones who are the most difficult to write…except for Aizawa. I wonder why that is. Hmmm….

**CassiToTheStars:** NYAH! glomps You're back! LOL. Eh…anyway, I honestly hope you don't shoot me for what I've planned for Yuki! Please forgive me. runs away and cries

**Mirai Aria**: Tsk, tsk…LOL. sigh Yes, I know chapter 10 was short. GAH! I actually had writer's block on that one. . But, I do assure you that the next 4 chapters are going to be quite lengthy…and metaphor-filled… O.o Heh. Eiri's stupid? nods I partially agree…and I'm sure I'll get a couple of flames for the next chapter that I am going to post. Sex him up? You could say that…but…nah, I'm not going to say. It'll give it away. evil laugh Well, I do hope you liked the Tohma and Ryu "incident." It was slightly weird, but shrug whatever came out I guess. Pato did tell me along time ago that she thought it was weird that Tachi and Ma almost had sex, but…it makes it interesting. Plus, TOOG is just one huge Gravi soap opera. -- brushes the guilt away Change of clothes for Eiri? Well, considering that Eiri likes to dress non-casual almost 99% of the time(in the anime)…I think it would be freaking hot to see him in some of Tatsuha's street clothes. drools OMG! Jeans…t-shirts…tanks…dies and goes to Gravi heaven Uh…yeah…that probably didn't help any…

**Dazzle1**: bows Thank you! I just hope you continue to read…and I hope the entire Tachi/Ryu thing doesn't throw you off. I think it did a lot of people…but please remember…it was in the past. Heh…

**Malik Ishtal0607**: Another Ryuichi/Tohma fan? LOL. I hope it gave you something to think about and was pleasing to read.

**Joan Mistress of Magic**: WAHOO! glomp I'm glad TOOG still holds a place in your heart. dances

**Akina Tsukana:** Don't freak out about the entire Tachi/Ryu thing…I know you're not happy with it, but it's just something I felt like writing at the time though it's not the central conflict…well, sort of. Anyway, everything will work out in the end! I promise!

Exert from next chapter:

When Eiri's feet embraced the gleaming linoleum floor, memories surfaced before his eyes, tormenting him endlessly, and he leaned against the wall, his nose pressed painfully close to its cold surface. His tongue slid free from its warm prison and licked the barrier thoughtfully.

_"Shut your mouth. You are pissing me off. You keep asking 'why, why?' He always asked me the same thing. Indeed, why are you asking me why? Why do you keep coming to see me again and again?" Large violet orbs gaze up at him as the blonde walked forward, edging the other further and further away from his commanding presence._

_ "I-I…" He slammed against the wall, long arms moving to trap him so that he couldn't move._

"Why are you looking at me like that?" There was a pause. "Oh, well…" Lips brushed against the stoic singer's, and he gasped, allowing a liquefying tongue to purge his mouth and dance over his teeth, over his own tongue. He stood motionless in Eiri's loose embrace, unable to decipher the meaning of his advance, but when a hand skillfully slipped from beside his head to caress his side through the bulkiness of his glossy orange sweater, all coherent thought ceased to exist, and he kissed back, moaning softly at the quickly recognizable flavor pouring into him, all around him.

Eiri groaned mercilessly, his tongue lapping at the metallic-tasting barrier before him, and he blinked, his saliva connecting the novelist's mouth with his substitute lover. Instead of strawberry, he sample aluminum; instead of pliable skin, he felt un-giving steel. This wasn't what he wanted.

I loved writing that part…it was SO much fun. grin And, can't you just see Eiri making out with the wall? OMG! A "nice" lemony thing for next chapter…Yuki/Shu! Tell your friends! LOL. Also, I know that I'm evil. Anyway…

PLEASE REVIEW!

(Also...I don't like this new editing thing...grrrr....)


	12. Glass in the Veins

Disclaimer: Me no own. Sorry.

Author's Note: Yeah...kill me now. X.X I hope this chapter is okay. crosses fingers

_Track Twelve: Glass in the Veins  
_  
Eiri's fingers caressed the wet trails sliding lightly but constantly over his cheeks to spill onto his lap, desperate to erase their existence from his memory, and he shook his head, tendrils of shadowed blonde gliding across his face, wanting to deny everything. This had to be a nightmare of his overactive imagination -he did write fiction for a living, after all- but the evidence of saltine tears washing his pale, flawless skin awoke him to the realization that this was reality, one he had created and had to live with; there was no choice in the matter. The novelist glanced, almost shyly, towards the passenger side of his car, briefly thinking to see those childish, lovable violet eyes of his lover, but it was an immature thought. Shuichi had disappeared into the surrounding darkness, crying as though Eiri had done something absolutely terrible to him.  
  
_'Maybe I did,'_ he thought, biting his lip and closing his eyes to the world to ignore the burning sensation scorching his vision. _'Maybe...maybe...'  
_  
_"I...I can't. G-gomen, Yuki...I-I can't..."  
_  
Eiri cried against his arm, the steering wheel imprinting his forehead with a colorful pattern of lines he soon forgot, and he slammed his left fist against the plastic casing of the door, rage consuming him. What had he done to deserve this? Hadn't he told Shuichi the truth? Hadn't he confessed everything about his past? About his sensei? About the mistakes he had made? The author felt his body tremble at the thought, too lost in his own momentary grief to actually care that this was unlike him, that this brutal show of any other emotion except annoyance and depression were uncharacteristic of the man that Uesugi Eiri had become, and he sobbed from deep within his chest, hating himself for this weakness that so easily consumed him.  
  
Eiri did not make it a habit to cry, even when he'd been so emotionally afflicted that his heart threatened to shatter, but since Shuichi's ever-insistent spirit had repeatedly corrupted his quiet presence, he had been unable to control his emotional outbreaks. He found that he'd become prone to strikes of anger and self-loathing, sometimes only held onto the world of the living by the tiny fact that his beloved singer would be devastated, literally driven to insane loneliness without his protective aura, and the uncontrollable moments of flooding tears resulted in his own shortcomings, his failure as an actually human being. The real Eiri, unsheltered by his hardened shell of pessimistic lashings of the tongue, was a whore, a prostitute to his desires of giving love and being loved in return. He was the alleyway hooker of denial, spreading his legs to accommodate anyone willing to fill the void when Shuichi just wasn't enough, but his talent, refined and honed to perfection by two demons in disguise, had crumbled beneath his weighted heart, tipping the scales of the afterlife directly towards unforgivable sinner.  
  
Eiri wore his black soul on his sleeve, and he'd contaminated another with his wanton touch.  
  
"Shuichi..." His own voice washed back against him within the miniscule space of his car, echoing dead and obviously empty in his vacant mind, and he almost immediately cried harder, the remorse of his transgression stabbing him continuously in the back, staining his clothes with a definable litany of invisible crimson crimes. He had done this; he had done all of this and without a second thought. His fear of losing his valiant treasure, his pink-haired wonder, to the growing selfishness inside his body had consumed his logic, making him irrational and disrespectful of anything other than how he felt, and he'd driven his lover -strong, courageous, always up-lifting, and irrefutably kawaii until eternity's last breath- away from him and into the embrace of darkness' safety. Eiri wiped at the tears covering his flushed cheeks, their wetness absorbing into his skin, and he decadently avoided the reflection of his own ravaged appearance in the mirror tilted at an angle towards him.  
  
It was his fault, and he had to make it right.  
  
Slipping the key from the ignition, Eiri quickly stepped from the confining space of his imported vehicle -though its obtuse size compared to most Japanese transports was evidently huge, he had been suffocating- and walked towards the minutely lit doors of the elevator, his fingers shaking even as he hit the 'up' button and stepped within the sluggishly opening metal arms to leave the hungry pain of eroding blackness behind. When Eiri's feet embraced the gleaming linoleum floor, memories surfaced before his eyes, tormenting him endlessly, and he leaned against the wall, his nose pressed painfully close to its cold surface. His tongue slid free from its warm prison and licked the barrier thoughtfully.  
  
_ "Shut your mouth. You are pissing me off. You keep asking 'why, why?' He always asked me the same thing. Indeed, why are you asking me why? Why do you keep coming to see me again and again?" Large violet orbs gaze up at him as the blonde walked forward, edging the other further and further away from his commanding presence.  
  
"I-I..." He slammed against the wall, long arms moving to trap him so that he couldn't move.  
_  
_ "Why are you looking at me like that?" There was a pause. "Oh, well..." Lips brushed against the stoic singer's, and he gasped, allowing a liquefying tongue to purge his mouth and dance over his teeth, over his own tongue. He stood motionless in Eiri's loose embrace, unable to decipher the meaning of his advance, but when a hand skillfully slipped from beside his head to caress his side through the bulkiness of his glossy orange sweater, all coherent thought ceased to exist, and he kissed back, moaning softly at the quickly recognizable flavor pouring into him, all around him.  
_  
Eiri groaned mercilessly, his tongue lapping at the metallic-tasting barrier before him, and he blinked, his saliva connecting the novelist's mouth with his substitute lover. Instead of strawberry, he sampled aluminum; instead of pliable skin, he felt un-giving steel.  
  
This wasn't what he wanted.  
  
He clenched his fist, anger and undeniable pain swamping his senses, and he practically raced out of the elevator as soon as it stopped on the floor he had specified, desperate to hold his Shuichi against him, to wipe away all of those tears. The writer didn't even think that his thoughts were erratic, that they surfaced from the anger-laden Yuki Eiri of fictitious romance novels who remained cruel and vicious without cause, and he slipped inside the still darkened apartment, carelessly left unlocked by his emotion-wounded lover in his flee of grief, lemon eyes scanning the shadows for any form of life. He saw none, and his heart sank as he slipped his shoes off, noticing, with relief, that Shuichi's scuffed footwear lay lopsidedly beside one another. At least he was here.  
  
_ 'I have to tell him...I must...'_  
  
Eiri stumbled in the dark, his legs almost unable to support him as he avoided the miscellaneous objects scattered on the wooden floor. It was as he had left it after receiving that absurd phone call from his younger brother; he'd been unable to move the mess for fear of losing reality on the situation. He actually had someone living with him, sharing his bed, his space, his life, and the possibility that he was still safe, free of the nightmares that had been his childhood world, was hard to grasp. Eiri was the cautious type, and over the months since Shuichi's persistent clinginess, he still couldn't figure out how everything had come to be. He was glad, he was happy, and no one could take his light from him. Tachi Aizawa nearly had -had defiled him the worst possible way a person could be defiled- but their relationship had persevered. The media, their careers, the differences in their families, their personalities, their untold secrets...nothing could break what had been set in stone.  
  
Eiri would not allow it.  
  
"Shuichi?" His name was music flowing from his tongue, and the first place he had looked -the couch- had been vacant, a lonely ashtray smiling crookedly back at him as he found his way into the bedroom. Their bedroom. "Shuichi?"  
  
There was a soft sniffle. "Y-Yuki?"  
  
"Shu..." Relief spread through the novelist's entire body, and his initial reaction rose above that, anger sparking. Why was he so calm? Didn't he know that he cared? Didn't he know that he was worried?! And, then, everything disappeared; Eiri had already answered his own question.  
  
No, Shuichi did not.  
  
"Naa, Yuki!" Arms wrapped around his waist from the enveloping gloom, startling him from his thoughts, and the enticing aroma of strawberries entranced him, completely making him forget the animosity harboring in his mind. This was the effect his petite lover had on him -when he was ready to explode with anger, he calmed him; when he threatened to do unspeakable, inhumane things, he convinced him otherwise- and although this strange power of ceasing cataclysmic events intrigued Eiri, he could not worry about it or the fact that the singer had him twisted purposefully around his finger. Thin shoulders were shaking harshly against his abdomen, a nose protruding into the center of his chest at a sharp angle that almost, if not already, hurt, and his arms banded Shuichi in a tight embrace, pulling him closer, hugging him comfortingly. Eiri understood that the vocalist was in pain -more emotionally than physically- and to show support was merely another stone on the road he had built for himself. He had fallen victim to the worst plague in known existence, and it began with a disgustingly bright, neon pink 'L'. "Yuki...I'm...please forgive me. Gomen, Yuki! Yuki-"  
  
"Urasai..." His tone was hard and unrelenting, but then his expression softened, and Shuichi actually smiled through his tears. "Come here, baka."  
  
"Naa, Yuki..." He'd barely gotten his name out before avid lips were pillaging his own, a demanding tongue thrusting its way into his mouth to plunge into that warm cavern in a heated caress, and Shuichi moaned against him, wanting more of the delicious chills his older and more sophisticated lover induced in him. He became that wanton sex toy of Eiri's fantasies, brazen in his ventures to please him, and this was the way it had always been between them from that very first, surprising kiss in the elevator to those countless and memorable sessions of heated, desperately frantic lovemaking after weeks of abstinence -book signings and concert tours were close and even between. There remained a spark of fire, a hidden flame of passion that refused to deny its existence inside them. It made them crazy for each other, uninhibited, feisty, ignorant to their surroundings, and seductively exotic. Shuichi felt his knees growing weak beneath Eiri's skilled ministrations, his tongue was licking at his lips, the tip of his nose, his jaw, and he gasped, wanting to stabilize his perfectly planned speech.  
  
He had to confess what he had done -Hiro's taste was still so dominatingly potent in his memories- but it was becoming difficult to decipher one person from the next. Eiri's features were concealed in the dark, masking who and what he was to the lust-filled singer as his nimble fingers deliberately began to slowly slither the binding leather shorts over his lean hips, and Shuichi conceded to the vision in his brain, wrapping his skinny arms around those powerful shoulders, his consciousness evaporating as he hoisted himself up, his leg curling around the other's upper thigh. This lover was a mixture of two beings -blonde and red hair, cobalt blue and lemon-lime eyes- and everything clashed and matched, rivaled and compromised, sending a sharp chill up the singer's spine that burnt a path of hot desire straight to his groin. He thrust his pelvis against the one hovering beside his, and Eiri stumbled back into the dresser, his mouth breaking contact momentarily before attacking his bared throat, the long yellow trench coat Shuichi had worn to his concert fluttering to the floor.  
  
"Let me have you," he growled, his hot breath inevitably close to the vocalist's ear. "All of you...mine." The writer's teeth sank into the soft flesh of his shoulder a moment later, and Shuichi squealed, his arousal skyrocketing. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed this until now, and when Eiri initiated such things, it always meant something new, something exciting, and something that had Shuichi walking slightly funny days after.  
  
"Eiri," he groaned, thrusting his hips up to brush against the writer's surprisingly stoic body, unwilling to deny himself the pleasure of touching the magnificent creature driving him divinely insane, and the singer knew it was a miracle he'd said the right name; someone else's was on the tip of his tongue, threatening to tumble free. "D-don't tease..." Shuichi arched his back, rubbing himself along his lover in a drawn out caress that extracted a soft moan from his target, and he leaned forward after a long, effective pause, smiling generously in spite of the game he played with practiced skill, climbing over Eiri as the author tried to balance them against the edge of the waist-high bureau he'd been knocked into. Fingers dug into the flesh of his torso, holding him still, and the eyes of gleaming gold that stared back at him did not belong to the lover he knew. Where had he gone? "Y-Yuki?"  
  
"I want you, Shu-chan. Do you want me, too?" he murmured, his lips brushing close enough to the skin of his neck to induce a shockwave of shudders.  
  
What type of question was that? Eiri had never asked him anything so redundant before; it was pretty obvious what his answer was. Shuichi ground the throbbing ache between his legs against Eiri, his head tossed back in a way that defined his slender throat like that of a forbidden display, but hands, choking the movements that would further prove how much he desired the insatiable writer, stopped him.  
  
"What?" His usually childish voice was thick and husky, toned down by the pleasure pounding furiously in his veins.  
  
"I want to fuck you," he stated matter-of-factly, slightly damp strands of blonde hiding his eyes, and Shuichi's breath caught in his throat -Eiri really wanted him when he started talking dirty- as his cheeks burnt a color that almost matched the hue of his hair.  
  
"Eiri-" Jagged edges of broken steel pierced his mystified gaze, alerting the singer to a horrible, terrible truth even as the other's daring pink tongue moistened the edge of his bottom lip, hunger evident across his entire visage. Shuichi was looking at starvation, the mass destruction of a peaceful soul torn into multitudes of tiny remnants, and the expression on his beloved's face was ripping him apart, hurting more and more with each passing second as Eiri was lost to the hatred and the anger and false desire within himself. The monstrosity of Yuki Kitazawa's creation had finally returned, once buried beneath the repression of a child's guilty conscience, and Shuichi shut his eyes, refusing to believe that what he had known had existed behind his lover's impenetrable wall of secrets had escaped, finally free to dominate him, to break him, like he'd always feared. "Yuki...I..."  
  
"..." Eiri ignored the singer's soft, nearly inaudible protest as he pried his legs from around his waist, unaware that his harsh grasp was marring that perfectly tanned flesh, and he shoved Shuichi onto the top of the dresser, fingers tearing at the already loose shorts in haste to remove them even as his elbow knocked a bottle of cologne onto the hardwood floor, breaking it freakishly into two neat halves. The musky smell was repugnant, filling Shuichi's nostrils with an aroma that was almost three times as strong as the underlying scent that was distinctly his lover's, but his senses entirely blanked out the moment Eiri's tongue slid over the edge of his navel, his mouth a scorching inferno of fire that sought to destroy him when it enveloped the tip of his exposed erection, suckling softly. Shuichi cried out, his back arching at an unnatural angle as his hands slapped the top of the bureau's surface, nails gouging into the wood to keep himself steady when Eiri increased the suction on his skin, drawing him farther and farther into the depths beyond his lips. His legs trembled violently, unable to comprehend why Eiri was doing this, he would never torture him like this, and he tossed his head back, screaming agonizingly as his lover's teeth grazed his flesh, driving his senses wild.  
  
Eiri's hands wrenched his thighs further apart to create enough room for him between them as he slid to his knees, his movements uninterrupted by the shift of his position, and Shuichi covered his mouth with his forearm, biting his skin hard enough to make it bleed when fingers reached behind him to draw him closer, his legs slipping over the other's shoulders. Saliva and tears were mingling together to form a thick coat of saturation on his flesh, and Shuichi shrieked deafeningly, splitting Eiri's eardrums, as his cock was drawn impossibly deeper into that anguishing heat of molten lava, the suction harder, the experience even more overwhelming than it had ever been before. The singer no longer felt like he was in his own body, this was someone else, he was only a distant spectator of this crude sexual game, and the stars swarming around his head blinked at him in spite, smirking with their ever-persistent twinkle as if to say 'you lost.' He'd become part of a deluded fantasy, it wasn't the dream of being in love and having sweet kisses and marrying anymore, and that tore at him more than anything.  
  
"Yuki...Hi...oh...g-god..." His lungs malfunctioned, completely shutting down from the lack of air, and Shuichi came in one fluid gush, his voice too sore to produce anything more than a scratchy croak that had a smirk forming on Eiri's lips as he greedily drank the warm "essence of Shu." The singer mewled for breath, unaware that it was far from over. Eiri pushed his own fingers into his mouth after he'd pulled away, swirling them, wrapping them in the residue of cum and spit, and the slick sound as they slid free had Shuichi blinking his exhausted eyes open. He was afraid, and his heart pounded.  
  
Eiri had become his death.  
  
"You liked that?" he whispered, his deep, resonating voice oozing with sarcasm. "You want more?" Shuichi shook his head frantically. He wanted to get away; he didn't want this, but Eiri took his silence and wobbly head movement as agreement, and the author stood, one hand grabbing Shuichi by the thigh to hold his hips up while the other slipped towards the opening to his body. The pink-haired vocalist whimpered when fingers entered him, roughly defiling him like he had been once before, stretching him for that thing he'd liked once, and he couldn't bring himself to pull away, to say 'no,' to hate what his precious lover had become. Shuichi owed him this, this was the penalty he had to pay for causing the writer so much grief and agony, and above all, it was his duty as his partner to satisfy him.  
  
He loved his Eiri so much.  
  
Shuichi braced himself for what was to come, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as his soul called out for help, contradicting everything with one word, one name, that he cradled to his heart.  
  
It was one Eiri could never hear.  
  
Hiro...  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Shower damp locks brushed his face as he walked out onto the balcony of the apartment, a soft, semi-comforting breeze almost caressing him, and Eiri sucked on the cigarette held lightly in his hand, the rising of the sun greeting him in mock salutation. There was a muffled sound from within, but he didn't move, knowing what had caused it. Shuichi had fallen asleep in a ball on their bed, after he'd moved him there, and the thump of his hand hitting the wall as he rolled over echoed into the novelist's ears. Eiri didn't understand what had gotten into him earlier -how could he have treated his kawaii toy with absolutely no respect?- and the revulsion he'd felt after he had withdrawn himself from Shuichi's lax grasp had almost made him vomit. Somewhere in his mind, Eiri knew that the other had told him no, had somehow clarified that he hadn't wanted it, but he'd persisted, too stubborn to let something as juvenile as Shuichi stop him from getting what he'd wanted. The realization sickened him; he didn't take anyone by force, he never had. The writer leaned against the railing, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows so that the exposed flesh of his arms rubbed against the chilling metal, and his mind raced with the memories of that night.  
  
He was so stupid!  
  
How could Shuichi love him, now, after what he'd done?  
  
He'd only wanted to give comfort and be comforted in return, but he'd practically raped his little lover with so much force that his blood now stained their bedroom.  
  
Practically?  
  
Golden eyes flashed open at his comprehension of the situation, and he gasped, his cigarette falling from his loose fingers and towards the ground. Eiri knew the definition of that word, he'd used the basic plot of unwanted sex so many times before in his writing, published or not, and it was ringing repeatedly in his head, convicting him with each syllable he recalled.  
  
_ Rape: The crime of forcible sexual intercourse; abusive treatment.  
_  
Forcible...  
  
Abusive...  
  
He'd raped Shuichi.  
  
He'd raped his Shuichi.  
  
Eiri's fingers shook, his mouth burning with a thousand empty apologies that the singer needed to hear, and he covered his pale face with his hands, unable to move. He'd promised himself that nothing bad would ever happen to Shuichi again, that he would be safe if he stayed with him, but he'd lied. He'd broken the only thing he'd ever wanted to keep, and everything was his fault, though he still refused to believe it.  
  
"Dammit." Eiri swayed as he turned around, his steps unsteady, and he fell against the open glass door of the balcony, unable to support himself.  
  
Why was he such a fool?  
  
Why did he have this affliction with hurting people close to him?  
  
His sensei...  
  
Tohma...  
  
Mika and Tatsuha...  
  
And, now, Shuichi...  
  
Then, understanding came to him.  
  
He wasn't meant to be loved by anyone. The only security he could afford to buy himself was knowing that others could hurt like he had been hurt, could bleed like he had bled, and there was nothing for him...anymore. Shuichi had been everything to him, when he'd finally managed to make himself realize it, but he'd hurt him.  
  
He had to be forgiven!  
  
_ 'I'm sorry...'  
  
_ Eiri stumbled back into the apartment, a flood of irritating tears burning his eyes as he staggered into the living room, the gray L-shaped couch grimacing at him in scorn. He and Shuichi had shared so many memorable moments there, and too many times they had ended in hot-blooded lovemaking that had always made both of them forget they were even separate entities, but he had desecrated that sacred place with the sacrilege of his singing god. The author turned his gaze away, unable to get the image of Shuichi happily pouncing on him out of his mind, and he gradually wobbled towards the looming doorway of their bedroom, his face ashen with fear. Uesugi Eiri was terrified, beyond petrified of entering and being rejected for the sin he actually was, and the vibration of that dread constricted around his heart, freezing his blood. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't concentrate. His mind ached with sorrow.  
  
Tohma had trained him well.  
  
_ Ring..._  
  
The novelist jerked, abusing his knuckles against the wood of the door as he pulled back, momentarily convinced that the portal before him was alive with sound, but another shrill noise hummed a second later, pulling him from the mirage consuming him. He reeled towards the phone placed dutifully on its petite charger, and Eiri nearly dropped it as he pushed the power button and tried holding it firmly to his ear.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You got laid, didn't you?" His brother's familiar voice immediately echoed through the quiet apartment, and Eiri was unable to bring himself to answer.  
  
What was he supposed to say?  
  
_ 'Yes, but now I've become a rapist.'?  
_  
He didn't think that would work.  
  
"Stop making assumptions," he muttered sourly a moment later, deciding to avoid the subject all together. He still hadn't apologized. "How can you tell, anyway?"  
  
"Easy, Aniki. Your voice is softer...and you're not yelling at me for calling so early," he answered, his own deep tone expressing fatigue.  
  
Was it really that early?  
  
Glancing at the clock above the TV told him that, indeed, it was.  
  
"Whatever." He paused. "What do you want, Tatsuha?" The younger Uesugi laughed.  
  
"You've always been my favorite brother, Aniki..."  
  
"What do you want?" he ground out, tired of playing charades and pretending. He wanted to discard his mask and bare himself to the world.  
  
"Well, I sorta...I was wondering if you'd let me stay. Just for the night, I mean, and then I'll go back home in the morning -er- well, later."  
  
Go back home?  
  
"Where are you?!"  
  
"At the hospital," he answered, sounding somewhat nervous. "Ayaka-chan wanted me to take her, and I couldn't-"  
  
"Whatever. Fine. Good-bye." Eiri tripped back towards that dreaded door, dropping the phone on the couch as he staggered by, and he swallowed as he slowly stepped inside.  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
TBC-

A/N: I'm waiting for the flames and hate mail. LOL. I will repost this, along with replies to reviews as soon as Pato gets it beta-ed.


	13. Playing DressUp

Note: Many thanks to Aja for beta-ing for me. I probably would have made it even more confusing than necessary without the assistance.

**_Track Thirteen: Playing Dress-Up_**

Shuichi awoke to a dull throbbing pain in his back, his entire body stiff to the point of radiating soreness, and he rolled over, violet eyes blinking open to welcome the shining rays of the sun washing the room in a tsunami of golden fireworks. He sighed, drawing in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents around him before carefully sitting up, tendrils of magenta caressing his cheeks in a waterfall of neon color. The singer grimaced when his gaze fell upon the dresser, its mirror reflecting his image from across the room, and he had to force himself not to sob. His appearance was a picture from his nightmares. Dark smudges stood out against his skin, a product of not enough rest, and the dried tear stains were almost visible in the bright light, giving his face a ghostly look that nearly frightened him. Shuichi shivered, lithe arms banding around his naked torso to hug himself in self-attempted comfort. He bravely slid to the edge of the large, empty bed, preparing himself for what was to come. He knew that making any sudden movements on his feet would hurt him, it was almost like being back in Hiro's apartment and waking up to find his friend gone so that he was forced to walk on his own, but he couldn't lay in bed all day and mope; it wasn't ethical, and he had _important_ things to do.

Biting his lip, Shuichi grabbed the edge of the bedside table and compelled himself to stand, a wave of momentary agony caressing his spine as his weight settled onto his legs and lower back before disappearing.

_'That wasn't so-'_

He walked forward and instantly fell, his hands flailing out to catch hold of something that would keep him upright. He managed to knock off the lamp on the table, pull the bedspread over him, and smash his head against the wooden floor in less than a second.

"Son of a bitch," he cried, the curse falling easily from his mouth as an intense flair of hurt flowed over every inch of him, giving new meaning to the phrase 'no pain, no gain.' Shuichi couldn't remember where he'd heard it, though it was most likely one of K's rambles when he had his magnum to Shuichi's head. He definitely disagreed with the idea behind the phrase. The ache washing over his body made him want to cry. It hurt _so_ much! Shuichi couldn't understand why this was any different than the other times he'd been with Eiri. They'd always been so careful, and although it wasn't obvious, Eiri was a considerate lover, but the memories of last night abruptly made him remember the answer to his question. The feeling of the author thrusting into him making his heart ache. Eiri had been something else; he had morphed into some atrocity that was a crime to the world they lived in, and Shuichi had turned him into _that_.

He hadn't even said anything!

Had he?

Fresh tears began to work their way from his eyes, warming the skin of his cheeks as they slipped free to run onto the floor. The blanket surrounded him, and he sobbed into his arms, ashamed of what he'd let the other become. He was supposed to protect him, to shelter him from those things that would make him act anything other than the lovable Yuki Eiri he knew, but he'd failed in his endeavor to be a good lover, a good boyfriend...a good person.

Was that why Eiri wasn't beside him?

Could that have been the reason as to why he'd woken up alone?

Did Eiri think he was some dirty whore that was only there to relieve his sexual urges?

Had Eiri left him?

Was...

"Do you need some help, Shuichi?" The familiar masculine voice had him jerking his head up, eyes batting to rid themselves of the tears congealing his eyelashes together. Tatsuha's boyishly masculine face peered down at him from his crouched position, concern written across his features. His hand was extended out, a life saver to his drowning persona. Shuichi tried rubbing away the wetness clinging to his cheeks as he reached out for his lover's brother, wanting to be comforted in any way available to him, and Tatsuha pulled him up gently. His long arms supported Shuichi's back as he held him close. The singer was thankful for the blanket around him. Being naked in Tatsuha's embrace would create a slew of mixed emotions he didn't want to deal with, but the feeling of being pressed against the warmer, stronger body dissolved the insecurity bubbling in his mind. He hugged back tightly, another involuntary sob escaping his chest.

"Please help me...please help me..." Tatsuha ran his fingers delicately through semi-sticky strands of tangled pink, the mixture of hair, dried sweat, and hair gel forming a net around his hand. The heavy smell of cologne was wafting from the vocalist's normally strawberry-fragrant skin, and the younger Uesugi immediately didn't like it. Shuichi was the feminine envy of every man alive, though most would deny it and call him a slew of indecent names because it was an insult to their "manhood." Tatsuha could never imagine something as defiling as repugnant perfume desecrating this [holy] image of humanity. Shuichi existed as the answer to depression, the craving of every man, woman, and child in the purest spiritual form, but something was wrong, something too terrible to voice, and Tatsuha could only hold him.

"Shuichi..."

"Please h-help me," he confessed, his petite body shuddering excessively. "I don't understand...I don't understand what I did..."

"You didn't do anything," Tatsuha replied, firm in his answer; he'd already known that it wasn't.

_When he had finally made it to his brother's apartment, the spare key beneath the 'welcome' mat letting him in, Tatsuha found Eiri sitting stoically on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and fingers trembling as he sucked down one cigarette after another. He quietly placed his helmet onto the floor and tiptoed towards his sibling, his thoughts loud in the silent apartment. He'd never seen Eiri like this before. It was almost like he was worried and upset about something that he normally wouldn't stress over, but the thing that truly frightened Tatsuha the most was the fact that Eiri did absolutely nothing when he placed a hand delicately on his shoulder._

_"Aniki?" There was no answer, the novelist just pulled another drag into his lungs, and Tatsuha panicked. "A-Aniki? Aniki??"_

_Someone had stolen his brother!_

_"Be quiet, baka," Eiri suddenly muttered, blowing smoke into his face. "Can't you see that I'm thinking?"_

_"About what?" the other snapped, dark liquid eyes piercing solemn lime. "I'd thought you'd died or something!"_

_"Stop being so dramatic." Eiri held the cigarette away from his mouth and ran a shaky hand through messy locks of blonde._

_"Why? I was worried..." Tatsuha pursed his lips. "I'm your brother, Aniki. What am I supposed to do if I can't be dramatic?" There wasn't a reply, and the sixteen-year-old sighed heavily. "What's going on, Eiri?"_

_"Nothing." Another cigarette was lit and placed between pale lips to be smoked._

_"Don't give me that," he chided, reaching out to confiscate the infatuation his brother had stuck in his mouth. "Tell me!" Frosted lemon eyes met the other's gaze, giving view to the troubled soul within. Tatsuha sucked in his breath, nearly terrified by what he was seeing. Tears were stubbornly being held back from falling free, glistening reverently in orbs of lightened honey as they collected at the corners, and the younger Uesugi fell to his knees, arms wrapping tightly around this brother's shaking form even as he crushed the lit cigarette in his hand. Eiri's slender fingers clamped harshly to his back, pulling the material of his jacket taut, and the writer buried his face in the folds of his sibling's clothing. _

_His existence ached because of what he'd done. He was beyond redemption, he had sinned against himself and the ideals he'd wanted to cherish, had destroyed everything that had finally been righted in his life, and he could not say anything of his transgressions. Tatsuha was more understanding that anyone he knew, but he couldn't confess his crime to his own brother, to a monk of a Buddhist temple, one which he was **supposed** to honor more than he presently did._

_"Tatsuha..." A reassuring touch to his back comforted him._

_"You can tell me, Aniki. I won't think any less of you...what's wrong?" There was a heart-wrenching silence that elevated Tatsuha's pulse for fear of no answer. Then Eiri lost it, his mouth opening to spill the litany of offenses he'd committed, the laws he'd broken because of his uncontrollable emotions. He relived the memory of the drive home from the hospital, of the lust he'd experienced when he'd stared at Shuichi as if seeing him for the first time and how he had ravished him. The novelist remembered the things he had done to Shuichi in their bedroom, thinking it to be a physical show of his love. _

_Tatsuha listened without commenting, hating the crack in his brother's chilling, deep voice as he broke down in Tatsuha's embrace, and his soul ached despite the commands his conscience gave. The quiet voice that would often visit him at the most inconvenient times whispered that his brother had become a sinner, had mutinied against him and the beliefs he'd been raised under, but Tatsuha ignored it. He argued with the voice that if Eiri was now a sinner then he was just as guilty._

_"I'm...Shuichi will..." Wetness soaked into his skin, and the dark haired youth pressed him closer, murmuring softly against his ear while he stroked locks of tangled gold._

_"Daijoubu, Aniki...daijoubu..." _

Tatsuha caressed Shuichi's hair, whispered to him just as he had his to brother, but the words he offered were useless.

"If...if I d-didn't do anything...t-then w-why..." The pink-haired singer sobbed, pulling the blanket over his head despite the other's hold on him. "Where's Yuki? W-where-"

"He went out," Tatsuha answered, his words a partial truth. The teenager didn't have the courage to tell him that his sibling had gone to see Tohma; it would have broken his heart.

Shuichi sniffled.

"C-could you help me to the b-bathroom?" His voice was tiny, much less commanding than the usual sing-song tone he belted out, and Tatsuha shifted the vocalist in his arms. He slipped a hand down to gather Shuichi's legs before lifting him.

"I can do that," he replied sincerely, leveraging himself to stand. "Do you need anything?" Shuichi didn't answer immediately, but a head full of mussed pink wriggled from beneath the comforter he'd buried himself in, clear blue eyes blinking up at him.

"Clothes," he muttered meekly, his cheeks staining a pretty color that matched the unruly mane cascading over his petite ears, and Tatsuha laughed even as he pushed another door open with his foot. The porcelain features of the bathroom greeted them with a coolly. The taller male set the bundle he carried on the toilet before taking a step back.

"Do you need -uh- anything else?" From his obvious blush, Shuichi knew what he was asking, and he politely shook his head in response.

"I'll be fine." Tatsuha turned to leave, mentally in search of something the singer would approve of wearing. "Tatsuha-kun?" Charcoal eyes peered back at him from over a t-shirt clad shoulder.

"What?"

"T-thank you." A blinding smile that made Shuichi's chest ache appeared on the other's face.

"Any time." And, the youth was gone, deserting the vocalist to complete the task that had been requested. Shuichi slid the blanket down his slender body, wincing slightly when he had to lift himself up to slip it beneath him. He leaned over, trembling fingers reaching for the knobs, and he managed to plug the drain as water began to fill the spacious tub. He was grateful for the clashing sound of liquid against solid that drowned out the thoughts that plagued him. He ran a hand trough his hair, squeezing it momentarily before taking a calming breath. Shuichi gathered his strength, knowing that it would be difficult to step over the side of the tub which was a huge obstacle standing between him and his soothing heaven.

The singer still couldn't understand why it hurt so much or why Eiri wasn't there to comfort him, but he was glad for Tatsuha's presence. The teenager could be completely different from the immature, hormonally-unbalanced act he constantly put on. Sometimes his antics had been too annoying to deal with, but now Shuichi felt eternally indebted to the younger boy. Tatsuha had helped him so many times before –notably, when Eiri had planned to marry Ayaka, and when Eiri had deserted him that final time to go to New York. The singer had no words that would express how appreciative he was for the monk's patience, kindness, and care.

'_Yuki wouldn't do this for you,'_ his mind argued quietly as he grabbed the edge of the tub and agonizingly placed a small foot into the cascading water, letting warmth flood up his leg. _'He doesn't care..._' Shuichi eased himself into the bath. He was unable to help the sigh that escaped his lips as the pain was dulled into a light throbbing he could manage. His thoughts continued, pelting him with guilt and anger and personal fault that injured him far more than his physical discomfort. _'No one cares for you, Shuichi...no one loves you...Yuki did this to you because he hates you. Why do you think he isn't here? He left his brother to clean up his mess because...because...'_ Shuichi screamed in frustration, crying out as the unbearable image of his lover no longer needing him preoccupied his mind, and the singer concealed his face in his hands, scalding heat slipping between his fingers to wash down his drawn-up knees.

Eiri didn't love him anymore.

Aizawa stood before the window in Ma and Ken's apartment. The light made his weary eyes look crimson as he peered out at the busy world of Tokyo while it basked in the warmth of the rising sun. He crossed his arms over his chest, shivering as if a sudden wave of frost submerged him in its icy depths. After last night's encounter, the former vocalist couldn't think of anything other than the torment he'd put himself through; the animosity and sorrow threatened to rip his heart in half. He knew Ken and Ma cared. They had been part of his existence for as long as he could remember, but what the blonde had confessed to him, what he'd done to him; it was unreal. The feeling of the other's exquisitely skilled tongue pillaging his mouth haunted him, searing a jagged line of betrayal through his soul which he could not escape. Aizawa closed his gaze to the shining luminosity of humanity. His teeth were gouging into the softness of his lower lip when his mind refused to give him peace.

_"You don't have to be afraid..."_

His body involuntarily shuddered.

_'I'm so scared...Ryuichi...help me.'_

Reassuring arms abruptly wrapped around his waist, pulling him against a warm body that radiated an aura of eternal security, and Aizawa couldn't deny loving to be held like this.

"Why are you so sad? Are you hungry?"

Those words...

_Aizawa tilted his head to the side, a tendril of charcoal hair concealing his gaze from the earnest, handsome face staring almost worriedly at him. Aizawa smiled gently, maroon eyes shimmering eagerly in the delicate light as his lover returned his gesture, a dimple creasing the side of his mouth. Moss-brown hair bounced gingerly over a smooth forehead, as if afraid to mar the beauty captured in the singer's affectionate expression. Aizawa lost himself in the crystalline blue color of the other's eyes, wishing that this moment would never end, that he would never have to give him up to anyone._

_The chest that pressed tightly to his back shifted, and the curves of their bodies fell into place like the pieces of a perfect puzzle. Aizawa returned to his original frontward position, fingers drifting up his own thigh and stomach to intertwine with the hands resting intimately above his navel._

_"Iie."_

_"Then...why..."_

_"I love you, Ryuichi."_

_Quiet._

_"Aizawa-"_

_"Tell me that you feel the same...that I'm just not deluding myself into thinking-"_

_"Aizawa-"_

_"That you-"_

_"Aizawa?"_

_"Feel this way, too..."_

"Tachi...what are you talking about?

Aizawa opened his eyes, turning around to blink confusedly at the figure who held him, and he gasped when the tanned green hair of his rememberance melted into glistening blonde, and sapphire eyes faded into some unrecognizable color.

"M-Ma-kun?"

"Hai. Daijoubu-ka, Tachi?" The ex-ASK singer had to force himself to nod, unable to believe he'd been dreaming...again.

"I-"

"Tachi?"

"What?" The blonde leered up at him in a kind fashion specifically designated as Ma's worrisome smile, lengthy gold hiding the remainder of his features.

"Do...do you want something to eat? Ken-chan's making breakfast."

He had to get away...

"H-hai. Okay." Ma loosened his hold on Aizawa's waist to grip his hand instead, and he was tugged along, his legs wobbling unsteadily as a powerful urge swept over him, unforgiving in its wake.

Aizawa had to see Ryuichi, and he knew Ryuichi had to see him, too.

TBC-

A/N: Any commentary would be appreciated.


End file.
